


Eternity is Only a Concept

by Anonymous_Ostrich



Series: See You Out There - Picard/Q series [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Q Continuum, Q still doesn't know what to do with emotions, Roleplay, it's an invariable Q-fest, mentions of daforge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 103,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Ostrich/pseuds/Anonymous_Ostrich
Summary: Q once asked Picard for eternity, but the promise of ‘forever’ has begun to leave its mark. Picard always knew the risks. He’d weighed them out, categorized and cataloged them, but it still hadn’t prepared him for the challenges that awaited.Sequel to ‘A Touch of Eternity’ and ‘The Eternity in Your Eyes’.





	1. Chapter 1

The streets of San Francisco were bad when it was cold and worse when it rained. When it was cold  _and_ raining it was damn near unbearable, but rainfall came with unexpected benefits, such as stifling the sound of shoes on pavement and encouraging men in snazzy suits to hustle indoors. Deserted streets on a Friday night were downright depressing, especially when it was usually the hottest strip south of Market street, but the lone man walking along the barren stretch of concrete was not depressed nor shrinking from the rain. He had an appointment to keep, and as he slipped into a back alley, head bowed, hat and popped collar protecting him from the worst of the rain, he was grateful for the dismal weather.

 _The Continue_  was the most exclusive club in downtown San Francisco, almost impossible to get in unless you knew the right people. Unfortunately for Dixon Hill, the right people were often the wrong people, and the wrong people didn't generally vouch for the private eye who had a nasty habit of landing their friends behind bars. Dixon pressed his back to the damp wall behind the club, rain pouring from the bill of his fedora. He chanced a peek at the metal doors beyond the damp edge of bricks to take note of the two men standing on either side. Getting past them wasn't going to be easy, not if he wanted to avoid unnecessary bloodshed and commotion.

A blinding flash of lightning flooded the warren backstreets, followed shortly thereafter by a clap of thunder. Dixon counted three seconds between them, which was more than enough to inspire a sloppy course of action. Sometimes the direct approach was the most efficient, not that Dixon was always a stickler for efficiency.

"Excuse me," Dixon walked out from the alley and toward the men, hands jammed in his pockets, his voice fighting to be heard over the rain. The men stiffened and shouldered their intimidating forms more pointedly in front of the door, eyeing the trenchcoat clad man through the sheets of rain with suspicious squints.

"This is a V.I.P. only entrance," one of them barked. "Move along, pally."

Dixon stopped just a few feet shy of the door, brows raised above the rim of his hat. "Oh, I see. Forgive me, I just wanted to know if you could help me find someone?"

"Not interested," the other man growled, arms crossed firmly over his chest. A sporadic flash of lightning struck overhead, and Dixon started counting. "If you don't scram, I'd be happy to help you along your way."

"I thought you might say something like that." From his pocket Dixon pulled his revolver, aimed it at one of the men and fired just as a boom of thunder more violent than any of its predecessors shook the sky, drowning out the bullet's departure from the barrel of his gun. The man cried out as his leg was struck and he crumpled to the damp ground, curling his hands around the weeping wound with a hiss. The other man moved to pull his weapon, but Dixon's aim was now upon him and he froze, realizing too late who he was dealing with. Dixon smiled thinly.

"Now that we're all friends, I'll thank you to tell me where Big Quincy is hiding himself. I have an appointment with him and I really don't care to be late."

.

.

.

 _The Continue_  had a strict dress code, and soaking wet was not likely in the realm of desired aesthetic. The staff bathroom was cramped. Dixon shed his coat in a dark corner but refused to part with his hat, shaking off the excess water and smoothing out the lapels of his dark, mostly dry suit. Sticking his gun in his belt and out of sight he slipped out into the hall, following the sounds of lounge music and plumes of cigar smoke clinging to the ceiling, merging seamlessly into the throng of well-dressed people.

Dixon kept his head down and his body moving. The lounge area was dimly lit and lousy with atmosphere, all of the patrons thankfully too distracted by the music, their drinks and the conversation to pay him any mind. The music swelled and dropped. A few people clapped. Dixon moved slowly and easily through the crowd, his eyes sharp under the rim of his hat, searching for any hint of a door or hallway that might lead to Big Quincy's office. He was headed for the second floor, that was all he knew.

"Hey there," came a sultry voice from beside him at the bar. A voluptuous woman wrapped in a tight red number was staring at him with her chin tucked in her hand and a smile on her lips. Waves of chestnut hair fell over her bare shoulders. She tapped a polished finger against her chin. "Get caught in the rain?"

Dixon's eyes rolled upward to regard his rain-blotched hat. He offered the woman a smile before repositioning it more firmly on his head. "I'm afraid so. It's really coming down out there." He eyed the woman up and down; everything about her posture demanded he sit with her and buy her a drink, possibly several, and Dixon was never one to turn down an opportunity to blend in.

"Forget your umbrella?" the woman asked, lips pulling to reveal a dazzling smile. Dixon cast a look around them and leaned on the bar.

"My mistake. Perhaps I can share yours later on, if you'd be so kind."

The woman laughed softly and crossed her legs with unnecessary slowness. "I think I could be persuaded."

Dixon slid onto the seat beside her, knocking his knuckles against the counter top to gain the bartender's attention. "The lady's next drink is on me. Anything she wants."

"French 75," the woman told the bartender when his eyes turned to her. As the bartender started mixing her drink she glanced back at Dixon with smoky, half-lidded eyes. "I've never seen you here before."

"I've never been. I was invited by a good friend, but I can't seem to find them."

"Oh?" the woman's drink was placed in front of her and she regarded the slim glass with a discerning eye, tracing the pad of her finger around the rim. "A lady friend, perhaps?"

Dixon laughed through his nose. "No, not a lady friend. He owns the place, actually."

The woman's eyes flew open, her lovely mouth pursing in surprise. "Quint Quincy? No kidding."

"You haven't seen him around, have you?" Dixon asked in a tone he hoped was sufficiently conversational.

She shook her pretty head, taking a sip of her cocktail. "I've only ever seen him once. It was last week, when that dead body was found outside the club. Other than that, he rarely comes out of his office. But I sometimes see guests being escorted in."

There, now he was getting somewhere. How was it that beautiful women always managed to have the keenest eye? "His office, oh yes… He'd told me to head to his office, but I forgot to ask him where it was."

Immediately he knew something was wrong when the woman's expression changed and her eyes slid to the space behind him, ruby lips parting in surprised protest. Before anything could be done, Dixon felt the familiar sting of a pistol's barrel being pressed into the low of his back. Slowly, being careful not to make any sudden movements, Dixon offered the beautiful woman an apologetic grimace.

"Thank you, but I don't believe I'll be needing your umbrella after all," he said.

.

.

.

Dixon was shoved upstairs and down a dark hallway, the gun still jammed sharply into the base of his spine. At the end of the hall was a sharp left turn, and a bundle more stairs leading to an imposing door guarded by men in black suits and trilby hats. They parted for the silent procession, first recognizing the familiar posture of a man with a firearm digging into his back, then recognizing the face of the man in question. One of the men knocked his knuckles against the door, and a moment later the door opened wide. The barrel on Dixon's back nudged him inside, and as he passed the guards, one of them sneered, "The boss has been looking forward to this, Hill."

"I bet he has," Dixon replied with a half-grin that turned to a wince when the gun jabbed him hard, shoving him into the room as the door slammed shut.

The room was dim, illuminated only by a pair of green glass lamps beside velvet couches nestled around a short oak table littered with cigars and martini glasses. Sitting on the center couch with a girl fixed to each arm was a man wearing a showy pinstripe suit and a sharp charcoal fedora, one leg flippantly crossed over the other. The man's dark gaze was secured on Dixon with alarming intensity, his pouting mouth pulling gradually into a predatory smile.

"Well, well," the man crooned, slipping like liquid from the arms of the beautiful women to rise from the couch, his eyes never straying from the gaze of his captive, "what a completely expected surprise! I had a feeling I'd be seeing you skulking around here, especially after the  _unfortunate incident_  that occurred at my establishment just last week."

"Big Quincy," Dixon spat the name like a curse, but the Jean-Luc inside was swelling with a very different emotion, one he put a firm lid on in favor of continuing this game they'd both worked fairly hard to create together. "That 'incident' was your own doing, you know that well enough. You hired Kenny the Ears to kill me, I only returned the favor."

"You certainly did. And dropped him off outside my club for good measure. A dead body is bad for business, you know." Quincy's voice was highly amused, flirtatious, and with a vague gesture he shooed the girls away. They glided from the room with soft pouts, and when the door closed again, Quincy approached Dixon, snake-like. He tilted his head, eyeing his captive up and down with tantalizing suggestiveness. "Gentleman," he addressed his cronies, "why is our guest still standing? Find him a seat, he must be tired from a long day of breaking and entering."

Dixon was grabbed by the shoulders and shoved to his knees, a revolver aimed at his head. He glared up at Quincy with hard eyes, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a challenging grin. "It's over, Quincy. Mancini is going to testify against you. I stopped your flimsy hit on the warehouse, and Kenny is dead. You've got no one left to vouch for you, no one left to clean up your messes."

"Yes, yes, you've been very busy, I know." Quincy held his arms behind his back, staring down at Dixon with fire in his eyes and a smile that bordered on gleeful. "Did it ever occur to you that this has gone exactly as expected? I didn't get where I am today by following a script, Hill. Plans change, and I consider myself an expert on adaptation. But  _you… You_ I can always predict. It's a weakness of the 'good' and 'just', I'm afraid."

Dixon snorted. "I'm afraid even the 'good' and 'just' can surprise you sometimes."

"I would welcome the chance." Quincy purred.

"Well then," Dixon said, "you're welcome."

The next moment happened so quickly no one could really tell what happened first. A small round object rolled out of Dixon's sleeve and between the guards behind him, immediately exploding with a piercing pang and a flood of light that blinded everyone in the room who didn't have their eyes shut tight. Dixon sprang up and elbowed the two men in the face, dropping them like sacks of flour. He snatched the handgun and had it pointed at Quincy before the men had even found their footing.

There was a stiff silence as the proverbial dust cleared and the new situation became clear. Quincy was still as stone, eyeing the gun and its wielder with something of a pleased grin on his lips.

"Out. Both of you." Dixon spat at the guards without looking at them. "And once you're gone, know that if that door opens even a crack I'll blow his head off." Big Quincy tried and failed to suppress a chuckle, and Dixon leveled him a serious glare. " _That's a promise_." Dixon growled. Quincy's smile vanished.

The men looked to Quincy for the final word as they edged toward the door. Their boss gave them only a stiff nod before they slipped out into the hallway, firmly shutting the door behind them.

"Well well," Quincy chanced clapping his hands together a slow three times, a snide smile sliding back onto his face, "I have to give it to you, Hill. I misjudged you. Such underhanded tactics… If only I'd known how shrewd you could be, I might have tried to hire you in lieu of killing you!"

"It all ends here, Quincy. Once Mancini testifies, you're done. You'll be behind bars, where you belong."

"And I'm sure you'd love that,  _mon cap_ -  _détective_. But please, we've been at this game of cat and mouse for over a week now. Don't you think it might be time to… put an end to this little scenario of ours?"

Dixon's aim didn't waver an inch. "Of course." He quirked a brow. "Right after you admit that I won."

Quincy rolled his eyes. "'Winners', 'losers', such empty words! Can't we simply agree that there have been wins and losses on both sides, hm?" He stepped a little closer, his eyes betraying a flicker of lust and rapidly unraveling restraint. "There's no shame in a draw, you know."

"Not at all. But in this case, I  _won_ , Quincy. Say it."

"What's the expression?" Quincy tapped his chin flippantly, dance-stepping a tad closer. He was close enough that Dixon could start to feel his body heat, which was wildly unfair in his opinion. "' _It ain't over until the fat lady sings_ '? Declaring yourself the winner before I'm safely behind bars hardly seems like victory. We still have the trial, which could take  _weeks-_ "

Dixon's arm finally slackened, his expression softening into something thoroughly exasperated. "Oh  _come on_ ," he groaned, his breath beginning to quicken with longing, "You'd really extend this by several more weeks just to belay my obvious victory? There's petty and then there's just plain  _childish_."

"Childish!  _Moi_?" Quincy was so close Dixon could easily catch the cigar smoke on his jacket and the hint of his musky aftershave. The authenticity of it nearly made Dixon laugh out loud, though frustratingly it succeeded in fanning the flames of his longing. The villain's voice was low and almost rumbling. "Perish the thought. I simply want this game to be as fair as possible."

Dixon would have scoffed if his throat weren't so tight and dry with desire. "I somehow doubt that very much."

"Always so skeptical," Quincy cooed, creeping ever closer, his breath warm on Dixon's face and the promise of a kiss in his posture. Dixon knew he shouldn't give in, he had to win this thing, but it had been almost a week since he'd seen Q for more than a few fleeting seconds - and these rare sightings usually meant he was immediately going to be shot at - and his self-discipline was at an all-time low. Quincy's keen eyes caught the faint tremble of desire that Dixon was trying valiantly to suppress and he grinned devilishly. "My, my. If I didn't know any better, Hill, I'd say that you want something from me. You need only put down the gun, and I'm sure we can come to some sort of," Quincy moved in so close that their pelvises pressed together, " _arrangement_."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Dixon chuckled. Despite his words, his arm slackened and fell to his side while Big Quincy leaned in to ghost a kiss over Dixon's throat, carefully pulling his collar down to kiss along his neck.

"Do or don't, it's entirely up to you," Quincy smiled against his skin, and before Dixon could collect his senses enough to realize the obvious trap he'd just fallen into he felt the cool barrel of a pistol jab him just under the ribs. The kisses against his neck were warm and lingering and completely delicious. "However, regardless of what you choose to do I think we can both agree that  _I_  won this little game of ours."

Ooh, this was good.  _Very_ good.

Suddenly winning and losing didn't mean so much, but Dixon assumed that was Quincy's insidious plot all along. "Dammit, Q- - _uincy_ , of all the underhanded, deceitful-"

"Ooh, such barbarous words, Mr. Hill," Quincy- No,  _Q_ twisted the gun playfully against Jean-Luc Picard's jacket, sucking gently at the skin on his Captain's neck before pulling away to level Picard a smug grin. "But really, you should have seen that coming."

"Perhaps I did, but that doesn't make it any less deplorable."

"Come now, you  _love_ it when I'm deplorable." Q chirped.

Jean-Luc subtly rolled his eyes. "I most certainly do not."

"Oh?" Q pressed the gun more tightly against his ribs, gaining a wince of discomfort from his Captain, and then an unwitting groan of yearning. "Lying doesn't befit you, Jean-Luc."

"I am absolutely  _not_ turned on right now." Jean-Luc growled, dropping Dixon's gun.

"Oh me either, not even a little." Q replied, his own gun falling carelessly to the floor.

As soon as the pistol hit the carpet with a dull metallic clank the men were coming together, kissing and grabbing, stumbling back toward the biggest couch and falling onto the cushions in each other's arms. Hats were knocked off during the struggle and soon after they were pulling off each other's jackets and discarding shoes, socks and every other bit of clothing obstructing them from touching each other. An entire week's worth of danger, suspense and abstinence was coming to a head, and all either of them cared about was making each other feel good.

( _I've missed this. Oooh, I've_ missed this!)

 _You could have ended this days ago, you know, when I cornered you in the warehouse. But as I recall, you insisted on a dazzling escape_.

( _Dramatic effect, Picard, look it up!_ )

Pacing was out of the question. In no time at all Jean-Luc was turning Q over on his side and hiking up one of his legs, spreading his thighs far apart. He pushed his hips between that welcoming space, pressing the head of his throbbing cock against Q's hot, twitching hole. The sensation sent a tremor of warm anticipation surging through both of them and Q pushed eagerly against him, panting with need.

"Don't even  _think_ about preparing me," Q huffed, "just stick your cock in me, as deep as you can!"

Picard shut his eyes and groaned into Q's shoulder. "I fear I'll come immediately."

" _Good_ ," Q moaned, spreading his thighs wider, his entire body trembling.

Jean-Luc snapped his hips forward and sheathed himself completely inside. Q let out a pitiful cry, his first orgasm tearing through him with violence, thick ropes of come spraying over the couch and his own heaving stomach. Jean-Luc hissed through his teeth, Q's insides squeezing him unmercifully to garner the same reaction. The sheer eroticism of seeing Q orgasm so strongly from only being penetrated was overwhelming. Combined with the pleasure of his cock being encompassed by the sweet warmth of Q's convulsing insides, Picard never stood a chance.

The tremors slowed and faded. Jean-Luc remained firmly seated inside of his lover, warm semen squeezing out of Q's flushed pucker. Jean-Luc lay a kiss to Q's shoulder, smoothing a hand gently over Q's wet thigh and genitals. Q's body trembled under his touch, a quivering gasp catching in his throat.

"You know," Q sighed, his chest still heaving with heavy pants, "I never actually dismissed my bodyguards. And these walls are  _notoriously_ thin."

Jean-Luc couldn't prevent a breathy chuckle, pulling his cock slowly out of Q's hole just to thrust back in, Q's slippery insides helping him in his conquest, gripping him strongly in that hot, tight space. Q's mouth opened and a trembling keen spilled out. "I might be more concerned about that if this didn't feel so utterly spectacular," Jean-Luc murmured, "or if they were  _real_. All I know is they had better not interfere, because I'm far from done with you."

Q pushed eagerly against his hips, arching his back, sinking Picard's length deep into his slick heat. "That might be the most incredible threat I've ever heard," he gasped. "Now please, if you don't start fucking me as hard as you possibly can  _right now_ , I'm doomed to go insane."

Jean-Luc shifted to turn Q flat on his stomach, managing to remain inside of him through careful maneuvering. "There might be something to be said for several days of abstinence," he muttered as he roughly shoved every inch of his length into Q's smoldering depths, drinking in the entity's sensual moans.

.

.

.

"A woman on both arms, Q? Really?"

They lay together on the largest couch, legs tangled up, Q's fingers trailing over Jean-Luc's arm in silky caresses. Q's body shook with a soft chuckle. "What?" he purred defensively, laying lazy kisses to the back of Jean-Luc's neck. "That wasn't  _me_ , I was merely playing a role! Big Quincy is quite the ladies man, a 'player', if you will. Simply  _brutish_ , if you ask me."

"I see," Jean-Luc grumbled, elbowing his lover softly in the chest and earning a barely audible grunt in reply. "I'm so glad you have such a steadfast moral compass, or else I might worry what  _Big Quincy_  got up to with those girls while I -  _Dixon_ \- was running around the city putting out his fires."

"I assure you, Dixon Hill kept him  _far_ too busy to leave time for such things."

"Oh?" Jean-Luc turned over on his back to level Q a soft grin. "And just how did you pass the time when we weren't in a scene together?"

Q's eyes rolled up in thought. "Well, to be honest it got boring very quickly. Being the villain mastermind isn't really as fun as it ought to be. The bulk of it is telling other people to carry out your various schemes so that you don't have to lift a finger. There's a certain appeal to that, certainly, but not for someone who can make anything happen with only a thought."

"It must have been painful for you." Jean-Luc murmured in an overly sympathetic tone.

"You have no idea!" Q moaned, choosing to take his lover's sarcasm for sincerity.

"Whatever did you do?"

Q's mouth formed a grin that looked vaguely worrying. "I followed you around, of course."

"Of course." Jean-Luc chuckled. "And I'm sure you did nothing at all to hinder my investigation."

This time, Q chose to acknowledge the sarcasm there. "I most certainly did not. That would be too obvious."

"So you didn't interfere at all? I find that hard to believe."

Q's smile grew. "I didn't say that now, did I?" He sucked a deep breath through his nose. "Do you remember Kenny's girlfriend? The fetching woman in the blue dress?"

Jean-Luc scoffed. "Of course. She was hard to forget." His expression suddenly grew gravely serious, and he turned his horrified eyes to the entity. "Q, you weren't-"

"Oh I  _was_ ," Q confirmed gleefully. Jean-Luc groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"That was-  _She_ was  _you_? The whole time?"

"Catch up, Picard, the game is so much more fun when you're following along."

"And the girl I talked to at the bar just downstairs? In the red dress?"

"Also me."

"Q, you tried to seduce me! More than once!"

Q nuzzled his face into Jean-Luc's shoulder and pressed more kisses to his skin. "And you resisted every time, my love. Valiantly."

"Was that some sort of loyalty test?" Jean-Luc asked, his voice carrying a hint of offense although he knew very well the answer. Q was hiding nothing from him in the expanse of their shared consciousness which had been tragically walled up for the duration of their game.

"I can't test something I already know the answer to," Q pointed out, leaning over Jean-Luc to kiss him gently on the mouth. ( _I just wanted an excuse to get close to you_.  _Though I can't deny there was a certain satisfaction in watching you refuse such an irresistible creature._ )

_Well I'm glad one of us salvaged some satisfaction from your disturbingly aggressive advances._

( _Don't you worry, I'll be sure to make it up to you._ )

They kissed long and slow, each of them taking the time to savor the intricacies that were so often lost in the throes of passion. The feel of each other's lips, the warmth of their tongues, the small vibrations that carried through their gentle moans. Jean-Luc had rarely been so thoroughly reminded of the eroticism of a simple kiss before Q. He'd never known the joy of a lover who prioritized his pleasure, who desired him so much that every kiss radiated devotion and every touch burned with the want of a million more.

After a time they parted. Q gazed at Jean-Luc with a lazy, adoring grin.

"So? How did you enjoy our first anniversary?" he asked in a soft voice he rarely used.

Jean-Luc smiled thoughtfully. "When you first insisted that a pocket dimension could be infinitely more stimulating than what a holodeck could offer, I wasn't expecting to spend our anniversary - a ridiculous concept when we're existing outside of linear time, by the way - trying to kill each other in a Q-tailored Dixon Hill adventure."

Q quirked a brow. "They say surprise keeps a relationship exciting."

"Oh yes, we could do with a bit more excitement in our lives. Things have been far too dull lately."

"You still haven't answered my question," Q urged gently. As he spoke the words Jean-Luc felt a frayed thread of worry in Q's surface consciousness and nearly let out a laugh of pure fondness for his surprisingly sensitive God-like lover. Jean-Luc answered with a soft kiss and a sharp bloom of appropriate colors in their shared mind space. Even after a year, Jean-Luc still wasn't used to communicating solely through color, ideas and intentions, so he added a layer of human thought.

 _It was perfect_. Jean-Luc deepened the kiss, breathing in the flutter of relief that coursed through Q's essence.  _You were right, it was wildly different from the holodeck. I really felt like I_ was  _Dixon Hill, to the point where I almost forgot my real identity on at least a pair of occasions. My only complaint is that I didn't see enough of you_.

( _Don't worry, I thought of that. I said I wanted you for fifteen days, remember? We're only halfway done. Act two involves Big Quincy and Dixon Hill teaming up to run San Francisco with an iron fist_ ,  _while having lots and lots of sex. Not at the same time, of course. The sex is separate. Unless you don't want it to be_.)

Jean-Luc couldn't stifle a chortle and pulled away to level Q an incredulous look. "What in the world are you saying? Dixon Hill would  _never_ work with Big Quincy! If you're intending to flip the script, at  _least_ make it believable!"

"You accuse me of being unbelievable? I, who said  _nothing_ when you used a flash grenade to subdue me? A flash grenade! Thirty years too early for  _that_ technology, Johnny boy."

"It was hardly a grenade of any kind. A simple gadget anyone could create with even modest ingenuity." Jean-Luc pointed out passionately. "Dixon teaming up with a noted crime lord is a complete upheaval of his character, it would never happen!'

Q returned Jean-Luc's look with one of surprised offense. "Are you saying Big Quincy is utterly incapable of seducing Dixon Hill?" He rolled his eyes pointedly. "Come on, Picard, are we just going to ignore that moment in the warehouse? There was definitely some mutual attraction there."

Jean-Luc propped himself up on an elbow. "You tried to  _kill_ me in the warehouse," he accused, offended on Dixon's behalf.

"Nothing gets the blood pumping like a life or death struggle!" Q pointed out, wagging a finger in the air.

Jean-Luc sighed. "I have a much better idea. Since you got to choose the first half, how about I choose how we spend the second half?"

Q tilted his head to stare down his nose at Jean-Luc suspiciously. "Oh? And what do you propose?"

Jean-Luc answered him with a subtle bend of his arm, sticking the cool barrel of his pistol into Q's side. Q stiffened, but his expression suggested he was terribly impressed.

" _Mon capitaine_!" The entity's eyes practically sparkled. "I never expected  _you_ would fancy  _gunplay_!"

"Come now, Q, just go on and admit it. Dixon Hill beat Big Quincy, and the day is saved."

" _Now_  who's being childish?" Q chuckled gleefully. "I thought you were about to tell me how we were meant to spend the rest of our trip together."

"Oh, I'm getting to that," Jean-Luc twisted the barrel gently, garnering a fluttering moan from his captive. "Seeing as how Dixon won this little game, I'm thinking that perhaps Big Quincy might be inclined to beg for leniency. Dixon Hill isn't a villain, you know. He might show some mercy."

"How is that different than what  _I_  suggested?" Q exclaimed.

"Believe me, it's quite different." Jean-Luc assured.

Q's eyes grew dark and vaguely predatory, and a matching smile curled his lips. "So you'd like me to beg, would you?" he purred.

"I'm only saying that it might be in Quincy's best interest, is all."

"Jean-Luc, you naughty, wicked man." Q moved in for a kiss, heedless of how the gun dug into him. ( _When you put it like that,_   _suddenly defeat doesn't sound_ quite  _so disagreeable_.)

.

.

.

_There is unrest in the Continuum._

_Some appreciate the tempestuous shift, the bringer of something new and different in their blanket of cosmic stagnancy, but still Others are concerned, banding together to root out the source of the shift._

_One among them is unbalanced, that much is clear._

_It has happened before, but there must be an investigation when it becomes this influential._

_Several q gather, prodding the fringes of the Continuum, pressing against the expanse to find the leaks. Something snakes through a crack, winding into the space like a thin current of electric determination._

_It is growing._

_The q are not ignorant to this invasion, but it has been a millennia since they have had a breach like this._

_They push the tendrils back and seal the gaps. It is only a temporary solution._

_If they don't locate the source of the invasion, it will continue to find its way back. Cut the head from the snake, some cry. They fear pollution._

_The investigation begins_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> immediately after this excursion, Q went on to write enough Dixon Hill/Big Quincy fanfics to fill a starship database. Also he considers himself the president of the ‘Bighill’ fanclub, of which he is the only member, but he duplicates himself like 500 times for the meetings so
> 
> Yayyyy I'm posting the last part :'D Be honest how many of you are getting sick of me lmao
> 
> I've had this Dixon Hill chapter planned since like February. Actually I've had most of this fic planned since I started writing the first part, so I'm glad I'm finally getting to post it! As with the last couple fics, I'm going to be posting a chapter every Monday. This is going to be the longest fic by far, so I might occasionally post more than one chapter a week. :3
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

It was always jarring to return to the  _Enterprise_ after an extended stay with Q. No matter how many times they flew off together across the universe, into the future or the past or a pocket dimension it never got easier to come back to an unchanged ship and crew who had last seen their Captain only moments before. Jean-Luc always expected to catch wind of some new crisis or dive into an enormity of reports and updates, enough to cover his days or weeks of absence. Instead he was met with varied casual greetings from those of his crew who still had no idea he frequently gallivanted through the vastness of space with an omnipotent companion, and knowing smiles from his bridge crew who knew the fact too well. Altogether it wasn't a disagreeable pattern, but it only served to remind him of how truly strange his life had become as of late.

Q returned them an hour and a half after they'd initially left and deposited them in the Captain's quarters. Jean-Luc's living space had changed much over the last year. It wasn't a space that only belonged to Jean-Luc anymore, after all. Q didn't want for many material things - or any at all, really - but regardless Q was spending much of his time on the _Enterprise_ and not nearly as much time anywhere else, so it stood to reason that their space should reflect that.

It was a gradual change. More art on the walls, often fluctuating along with Q's moods and fancies. Various items from their travels adorned the walls and tables. A brass bathtub appeared in the bathroom, always filled with fragrant water warmed to the perfect temperature. Their bed increased in size and style, and though Picard had no qualms with Starfleet regulation beds, he couldn't deny Q's modifications made both sleeping and love-making exponentially more comfortable. The rooms in of themselves were bigger, rounder, though Jean-Luc suspected this particular change was some sort of dimensional trick, not affecting the outer structure of the ship in any way. He hadn't thought to ask, and Q had never made mention of it. Just another strange mystery peppering their equally strange relationship.

It had become customary to spend a few solitary hours for readjustment in his quarters after a long stint of interstellar vacationing; soft music, light reading, lots of tea and quiet companionship from his normally chatty lover. It gave him time to reacquaint himself with the hum of his ship's engines and the sensation of gliding steadily through space on a man-made starship to firmly cement himself in reality - a word that had lately lost some of its meaning - and though it was hard to resist the urge that demanded he return to immediate duty, Jean-Luc needed ample time to slip back into his Captainly role else he was entirely too relaxed and cheerful to be considered remotely acceptable.

"Have you done something to your hair?" Picard asked curiously from his desk, eyeing Q from across the room. Q was lounging on the couch, one leg crossed over his knee and bobbing in the air, his nose buried in their purple flower -  _abiding redamancy_ , they'd christened it some time ago - while his chest expanded with a deep breath. At Jean-Luc's question, Q turned his head and frowned prominently.

"Pardon?"

"Your hair." Jean-Luc took a decisive sip of his tea, leaning far back in his chair. He eyed the usually subtle dabs of silver that had begun to grace Q's temples a handful of years ago - honestly, he'd always been dreadfully curious as to what drove Q to mimic the mortal aging process in the first place - and took note of the soft grey flecked throughout Q's shock of hair, apparently gone unnoticed to him during their time in Dixon Hill's San Francisco. Either that or the change was as recent as their return. "There's more grey, isn't there? What compelled you?"

Q hummed, twirling the flower between his fingers. "Do you dislike it?" he asked.

"Not at all," Jean-Luc assured, tapping absently on his PADD. "It makes you look distinguished. I was only wondering what made you decide to change it."

Q arched a brow. "I'm sure I look a little different each time I materialize in this form. I've never been too concerned with the minor details."

"Oh?" Jean-Luc smiled. "I've never noticed. Aside from the grey in your hair, that is. You've always been the same Q to me." He couldn't withhold an airy laugh through his nose, which prompted Q to crane his neck in his direction.

"What?"

Jean-Luc shook his head, taking another sip of his tea. "It's become an odd thing, is all. When I see you, I know it's you. Your body, your face, your voice. It's all 'Q'. But I know better, I know that the 'Q' I can see with my eyes is just a mortal vehicle that allows you to interact with us in a way that makes sense." He pushed his PADD away, eyeing Q squarely from across the room. "Is there any way I can  _really_ see you, the natural form a Q takes when not taking the form of something else? Or was my stroll in your consciousness the closest I'll ever come?"

As soon as the question was asked Q was displaced in a diamond of light and reappeared on Jean-Luc's desk, sitting before him with his boots resting on the arms of Jean-Luc's chair.

"The trouble is," Q started easily, "we don't exactly have a 'real' form, at least not in the human understanding of the word. When I'm incorporeal I don't look like much of anything, and whatever bits of me you could see you wouldn't be able to comprehend."

Jean-Luc tried to veil his disappointment with a smile, but he knew he couldn't hide anything from Q. "It was only a thought."

"Jean-Luc," Q reached out and stroked his knuckles along his Captain's jaw, his gaze softening, ( _Believe me when I say that you've gone deeper into me than anyone else ever has. You've already seen the 'real' me,_ mon amour.)

Jean-Luc grinned.  _Is that an innuendo of some kind?_

Q leaned down to press a kiss to Jean-Luc's mouth. ( _No, but maybe it should be_ ,) he replied wryly. The kiss was meant to end on a chaste note, allowing Jean-Luc to return to his work, but after roughly a year together they both should have known better. Q gripped the edge of Picard's desk and leaned into the kiss just as Jean-Luc straightened his spine to do the same, and Q's occupied lips pulled gently into a grin. ( _This was supposed to be cool-down time, wasn't it? Will I get in trouble for distracting you?_ )

Jean-Luc wound his arms around Q's neck to lock him in, tilting his head to invite Q's tongue inside.  _I'll allow it, just this once_.

"Riker to Captain Picard."

Nothing had the ability to cement Jean-Luc more firmly in the reality of his life as Captain of the  _Enterprise_ than the voice of his first officer floating to him from the combadge on his desk. Jean-Luc and Q pulled apart with deep sighs of disappointment.

"Does he do that on purpose?" Q groaned, plucking up Picard's badge and extending it to him. Jean-Luc grinned apologetically and pinned his badge to his uniform, tapping it.

"Picard here."

"Captain, Admiral Danvers is calling  _Enterprise_. He wants to speak with you, when you have a moment. Sounds urgent."

"Danvers?" Jean-Luc's brow scrunched into a frown and he leaned back in his seat, his reemerging arousal quickly fading. "Really."

"Are you familiar with him, sir?" Riker asked. It was clear from Q's penetrating gaze that he was wondering the same thing.

"You might say that." It was hard to keep his voice from revealing vague shreds of discontent. "It's been a good twenty years since we last spoke. I haven't had the pleasure of speaking with him since he was promoted to Admiral."

"It sounds like you two didn't get along too well," Riker said with a smile in his voice.

Jean-Luc ran a hand over his smooth head. "It might be more accurate to say that we didn't always see eye-to-eye on a variety of subjects." He cleared his throat. "I'll take the call in my ready room. Picard out."

Q raised his brows. "Well, now. Duty calls, it would seem. I hope you've had ample time to readjust." He leaned over to peck Jean-Luc between his brows. "Go get 'em, Hill."

.

.

.

When Jean-Luc stepped off the turbolift and emerged on the bridge, he was immediately joined by his first officer, their shoulders bumping together so that they could speak discreetly.

"Welcome back," Will said with that knowing smile and damnable glint that appeared in his eye whenever he suspected one of his colleagues had gotten laid. "Or is my timing off? Have you two left yet? It's hard to tell when time-travel and pocket dimensions are involved."

"Your timing is fine, we just got back a few hours ago."

"Well?" Will continued, brows climbing halfway up his forehead. "Did you have a good time?"

The corner of Jean-Luc's mouth tugged into a grin. "You know, it's always strange when you ask me that. You saw me just yesterday, but it's been two weeks since I've seen you or this bridge. I'm not sure it's something I'll ever get used to."

Riker chuckled, placing a hand on Jean-Luc's shoulder as the two men walked to the ready room door. "But did you have a  _good time_?" he pressed.

Jean-Luc snorted and cast Will a sideways glance. "A bit more gunfire than I would have expected, but yes. Yes I did." Before his first officer could begin to speculate, the door to the ready room slid open and Jean-Luc stepped inside, patting Will's upper arm with a fond smile. "It's good to see you, Will."

"And you, sir."

His first officer turned to take back the bridge, and the ready room door slid shut. Jean-Luc sat down at his desk, putting in a call to Starbase 74. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about the Admiral's sudden call filled Jean-Luc with a dull dread he couldn't explain. Usually when his intuition flared up he believed he had good reason to feel whatever it was he was feeling, but this time it seemed eerily prophetic, a gut feeling he couldn't justify by conventional means. Phillip Danvers had never inspired friendly feelings within him, surely, but Jean-Luc's past interactions with Danvers were remarkably ordinary at best and petty at worst, so he couldn't exactly blame his irrational concern on bad blood.

"Jean-Luc Picard," A familiar but hardened voice snapped him out of his conflicting thoughts as the Admiral's face appeared on Jean-Luc's viewscreen. Picard offered a tame smile in return, resting his elbows on his desk.

"Phillip, it's good to see you again. The last time we spoke I had just been promoted to Captain of the  _Stargazer_ , if I recall correctly."

There were more lines on his face and silver in his hair but Danvers looked very much like he did back then, back when Jean-Luc was slightly less disciplined and more likely to speak his mind when it wasn't strictly necessary. He hoped Danvers didn't have as good a memory as he did.

"Twenty-five years, at least," Danvers grinned. "I've been keeping up with your service record, Picard. You run a fine ship, you've done some monumental work. That's something to be proud of."

Though Jean-Luc couldn't truthfully say that he'd given Danvers a single thought in more than a decade, he knew when flattery was meant to be reciprocated. "That's high praise coming from an Admiral, old friend," Jean-Luc said. "I suppose congratulations are in order. A little late, regrettably."

"I'll hold you to that, Picard, if some of your family's wine is included. Though, I admit I didn't call to catch up."

"I thought as much. What can I do for you, Admiral?"

Danvers squared his shoulders and furrowed his greyed brow. "There's a Venki ambassador that is very much in need of transport to the Beta Zynaath system for peace treaty negotiations. Tensions between her people and the Syak are at an all-time high, and there was an attack on her ship while they were en route to Beta Zynaath. It's a miracle the ship was able to keep itself together to request docking. I was told the  _Enterprise-E_  was in the area, and quite frankly you're the most advanced ship within range. I'd like you to escort the ambassador to Beta Zynaath, and allow her to conduct negotiations with the Syak representatives on your ship."

Jean-Luc frowned and leaned back in his chair. "Have things really gotten so bad?" he asked. "Last I heard, their peoples had agreed to a ceasefire."

"It was breached. I'll brief you on the details when you arrive. We'll have plenty of time for all that."

"You should know, Admiral, we were heading your way for mandatory warp core maintenance. It was scheduled to take around three days, if everything went according to plan."

Danvers laughed through his nose. "In light of recent events, I don't think you'll hear any complaints from the Venki. They can stand to wait a few more days if it means peace of mind."

"Well then, please tell the ambassador we're on our way. You can expect us in just under 48 hours."

"Understood. Oh, and one more thing, Picard. An inquiry, if you will."

Jean-Luc latticed his hands together in his lap. "Of course."

Danvers picked up a PADD and waved it casually before setting it back down. "I caught wind of your recent reports regarding the Q entity from Farpoint. Very interesting. If I read correctly, you even went as far as to claim that this Q is no longer a threat to the Federation, or to humanity."

Jean-Luc's spine straightened as a reflex, and the dull worry that had begun to pool in his stomach bloomed unpleasantly. He'd been prepared for this much, naturally, but he'd always feared that once the innocent inquires finally started, there would be no end to them.

"Yes, that's right. But I must point out, I made those same observations many years ago. My new outlook is merely a result of Q's lengthier stay onboard the ship, and my crew's more recent interactions with him."

The smile pulling at Danver's mouth now was something slightly more forced, like he was at a fancy dinner party and was too polite to critique the terrible food. "Is he on the ship presently?" he asked, his eyes darting behind Jean-Luc curiously as though Q might pop out in a spray of confetti.

"I couldn't say." Jean-Luc's stomach was coiling into a sick knot, an undeniable surge of protectiveness flooding his veins. "Why do you ask?"

Danvers exhaled a deep sigh through his nose. "Well, I was hoping to speak with him once you arrived, provided he's willing. You must realize that having a representative of the Q Continuum aboard a Federation starship is an incredibly sensitive situation, considering the very limited information we have of their species, or for that matter, the dimension they occupy."

Jean-Luc felt his jaw tighten from habit. "Starfleet doesn't usually discourage unaligned alien guests on their starships, no matter what species they happen to be. The Q Continuum is not an enemy of the Federation, nor is Q acting as their agent."

"Perhaps not, but they're no friend to us, either," Danvers pointed out. "Dangerously neutral, is what I'd call it. We can't ignore the fact that the Q entity has posed a significant threat to the  _Enterprise_ in the past, and was the one who introduced us to the Borg in the first place. Frankly, if we were dealing with a mortal creature he might be considered a war criminal and, if such a thing were possible, might be serving serious time in a Federation holding cell."

Jean-Luc didn't see the point in arguing what he'd already outlined quite clearly in his own reports years ago regarding Q's involvement with the initial Borg incident. Though if the need arose, he was certainly up to the challenge. "With all due respect, Admiral, I'm aware of my own past dealings with Q. He wouldn't be on this ship with my full permission if he hadn't since proven himself trustworthy."

"With all due respect, Captain,  _I'm_ aware that an entity as powerful as a Q doesn't need your permission one way or another. But I didn't bring this up to debate the ethics of the situation or to question your judgment. I am merely requesting to speak with this Q, if he will permit it."

Jean-Luc forced a respectful smile. "I'll relay your request the next time I see him."

"See that you do." Danvers nodded and leaned back, his hand extending off-screen to reach for the console. "I'll expect you in two days. Danvers out."

Jean-Luc's terminal went dark, the Federation insignia blinking onto the screen. He rubbed his brow, claiming a moment of silence and contemplation, his jaw set in a firm square of tension. It wasn't that he was angry. Or frustrated, even. Considering it was much too soon to jump to worried, Jean-Luc wasn't left with much else. Was it protectiveness? The idea was almost too preposterous to explore. Regardless of his overwhelming affection for the entity, Q was more than adept at defending himself against petty human suspicion.

Suddenly Jean-Luc's head rose and tilted. He observed the familiar presence hanging over the room for a moment, exhaling a sigh. "How much did you hear?" He leaned the back of his head heavily on his headrest, feeling Q materialize somewhere behind him.

"Only the bits concerning myself. I thought you'd called for me, so I popped in."

Jean-Luc groaned, shutting his eyes. "Did I do that… that  _thing_ again?"

The  _thing_ in question was a relatively new phenomenon in their relationship, a talent that Q had immediately coined 'projecting'. Their mental connection had strengthened significantly over the last several months, to the point where Jean-Luc's thoughts had begun to inadvertently stretch over great distances to touch Q's mind even when Q wasn't anticipating it. Although they hadn't yet discerned just how much distance their link could tolerate, the fact remained that no human had ever achieved something of that magnitude, at least not as far as Q was concerned. For a Q such a thing was hardly an onerous task, but neither of them had ever assumed a human mind could begin to simulate the same ability. Regardless, it didn't appear to stress Picard's mind or body, and it offered the both of them a two-way communication when Q was away from the ship. The only remaining issue was honing the skill enough to avoid projecting nearly every time Jean-Luc had a strong thought involving Q.

"Why yes, you did." There was a smile in Q's voice, fond and vaguely teasing. " _Un peu_. I was orbiting a Talarian moon when suddenly I heard you call my name. I came back right away and found you chatting with Mr. Personality. Friendly guy, isn't he? Not pompous at all. No wonder you like him so much."

Jean-Luc rubbed his eyes and sighed so hugely he slumped in his chair. "I'm sorry. I thought I was getting better at keeping my words and my thoughts in their respective places. It's hard not to… to  _think_ of you, when I talk about you. Especially during a conversation I was rather hoping to postpone for a while longer."

Q moved up behind the Captain and slid his large hands over Jean-Luc's shoulders, working his skilled fingers gently into his tense muscles. A small groan of appreciation rumbled in Jean-Luc's throat, encouraging Q to intensify his efforts. "We knew it would come up eventually. But  _really_ , it took them a whole year? I'm a touch offended, I thought I'd be higher priority."

"Leave it to you to be upset that you aren't notorious  _enough_ ," Jean-Luc chuckled. "So. Admiral Danvers wants to meet with you."

"He does, huh," Q applied gentle pressure to the base of Jean-Luc's neck, working his thumbs in small circles in the spot he knew Jean-Luc carried the most tension. "Don't bother asking, Jean-Luc, I am more than willing to have a chat with our dear nosy Admiral, and I will be on my very best behavior. A model Q, tried and true."

"You're sure?" Jean-Luc asked, slightly concerned. "Well, be prepared for anything. If Danvers is anything like I remember, he can be…  _Disagreeable_ , among other things. Though I don't think he's so reckless that he would intentionally test a Q's patience if he didn't find it necessary."

Q hummed fondly. "Oh, surely not. I know of only  _one_ representative of Starfleet who would continually and fearlessly butt heads with an omnipotent entity without a single concern for the entity's wrath." He cackled. "And I'm sleeping with him!"

"Benjamin Sisko's report noted that he punched you full in the face," Jean-Luc pointed out with some amusement.

"Is that so, I can't remember," Q said, sniffing awkwardly. "To his credit, however, he ended up being part-omnipotent himself, so. There's that."

Jean-Luc laughed at that, feeling the cloud of dark, unnamed anxiety lift and begin to clear. Q was still rubbing his shoulders in that perfect way that always reduced him to a boneless mass of contentedness, and although he hated to put a stop to it, his crew definitely wouldn't benefit from a fuzzy-minded, limp Captain. Tension was part of the job.

"Q, you know what this does to me. I can't possibly go out there in such a state of relaxation. It's going to be hard enough to function after a two-week vacation."

"I know," Q grinned, "but I also know you've been worried about this." He paused thoughtfully. "Maybe worried isn't the right word. A sort of simmering, unhappy anticipation over this inevitability in our relationship."

"That's… accurate." Jean-Luc sighed. "Still, I can't march around my ship on noodle legs. I appreciate it -  _ooh_ , I appreciate it deeply - but this will have to wait until later. I have some current events to catch up on, like the conflict between the Venki and the Syak. Apparently there have been some developments I wasn't aware of."

"Back to work?"

"Back to work." Jean-Luc picked up one of Q's hands and kissed his knuckles. "I'll see you tonight."

"Of course you will." Q leaned over and pressed his soft mouth to the shell of Jean-Luc's ear. "Be sure to build up lots of tension today,  _mon capitaine_. I am very keen on helping you relieve every nasty drop of it."

Out of the corner of Jean-Luc's eye, a flash of light marked Q's disappearance. Jean-Luc spent an additional ten minutes in his ready room trying to regain some of his usual, healthy stress and willing down the emerging erection Q had knowingly - and fiendishly - left him with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that, over yonder? Wow, it looks like a shit-storm is brewing! Yeah, it looks like it's gonna be a big one!
> 
> If you have a bad feeling about Danvers, rest assured that he is the LEAST of their problems in the near future. And that's saying something because he's an accomplished douche-bag. lol  
> Sorry for the shorter chapter! This is probably the shortest chapter in the whole fic, though. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! σ(≧ε≦ｏ)


	3. Chapter 3

The  _USS Enterprise_  docked at Starbase 10 hours earlier than expected. Typically Jean-Luc enjoyed promptness, but Q could see the tightness in Picard's jaw as he praised his helmsman for expertly shortening their travel time. It was clear Jean-Luc was still concerned about this Admiral Danvers, but Q didn't quite share that concern. No, not quite.

Q couldn't pin a particular emotion to the idea of having to explain himself to a pompous Starfleet windbag over a hot cuppa joe, but he was certain it wasn't any shade of worry. He wasn't  _afraid_ of this insignificant mortal. The thought was almost laughable. Just who did he think he was, 'requesting' a chat with a God more powerful than any overly vengeful entity described in ancient human texts, as if he had any say in who Jean-Luc Picard allowed on his ship? No, Q wasn't worried. Whatever he was feeling it drifted nearer to anger. Rage.  _Fury_ for someone who would question Jean-Luc Picard, the savior of humanity, the cornerstone of the otherwise pitiful Federation, the love of Q's infinite life.

If this were a different time Q knew exactly how he would like to respond, but he no longer had the luxury of intimidating lesser creatures into submission by shrinking them down into the palm of his hand or flinging them into dimensions where the natural law of physics no longer applied. Q decided that he was going to behave. He'd promised Jean-Luc, and promises rarely meant more than when they were for his extraordinary starship Captain.

But still that fury burned. For a Q, it was easy enough to quell such emotions and pack them away until he could snap to some distant point in space and take it out on a system of uninhabited planets. Uninhabited for Picard's peace of mind, not his own.

Shortly after docking, Picard gave a ship-wide announcement that the crew was to officially be on shore leave for the duration of the maintenance.

"Are you sure you want me there?" Q asked, watching Jean-Luc change into his white and gold trimmed dress uniform, clutching every ounce of his self-control not to strip those regal articles right off of him again. Q was still dressed casually in a blue robe tied loosely at his hip, his usual default when relaxing in their room. "Won't that be a bit… brazen?"

Jean-Luc grinned and pulled his uniform shut, latching the open half to his breast and tugging his sleeves into a more comfortable configuration. "I never thought the day would come where  _you_ would be worried about being too brazen."

"It's not worry,  _mon capitaine_. It's purely tactical, I assure you. I don't want to give our Admiral Danvers any unnecessary ammunition."

"I've never known you to be very tactical, either." Jean-Luc pointed out, sitting down beside Q on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. "I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be there when we receive the ambassador, Q. Naturally I won't make you do anything you don't wish to do, but I've never been browbeaten into who I select to join me on diplomatic meetings before and I certainly don't intend to start now. It's customary for the Captain and first officer to be present to welcome guests of the diplomatic nature, but beyond that, there are absolutely no regulations regarding who the Captain may bring in addition."

"Why do I get the feeling you're looking forward to seeing the look on the Admiral's face when the untrustworthy, villainous Q who has tormented the  _Enterprise_ for over a decade helps you welcome an ambassador onto the aforementioned Federation's distinguished flagship?"

A small, hesitant smile pulled at Jean-Luc's mouth. "I admit there is a certain…  _appeal_ in that notion, but I'm not using you in some kind of chest-beating contest with Danvers. I would have invited you along regardless." He glanced at Q with raised brows. "If you don't want to go-"

"No, that's not it. I just don't want to make this situation any more complicated than it needs to be."

Jean-Luc finished with his boots and turned to face Q with a soft expression that tended to send pleasant tremors spiraling throughout Q's essence. "Have I told you today that I love you?" he asked, reaching out to gently touch Q's jaw. Q grabbed his hand and kissed the Captain's wrist, his lips lingering to absorb the feeling of Jean-Luc's thumping pulse.

"Have I told  _you_ today how irresistibly attractive you are in this uniform?" Q growled darkly, parting his lips to graze his teeth over the sensitive skin of Jean-Luc's wrist. He felt more possessive than usual, more desperate to touch his Jean-Luc, to taste him. Q lay his hand on Jean-Luc's knee and slid it slowly up his thigh, leaning in to brush his lips over Jean-Luc's nape. "It wraps every inch of you so perfectly. Your chest, your arms, your magnificent legs..." He released a shuddering breath, intensifying his grip on Picard's thigh. "Oh  _please_ tell me we have some time before we have to go meet them. I don't know if I can hold back."

"My," Jean-Luc chuckled, reaching back to rake his fingers through Q's hair, "aren't we eager."

"Can you blame me?" Q purred near his ear, his tongue slipping past his teeth to swipe over the shell where he knew he was most sensitive. Picard shivered and reached back to grab a handful of Q's hair, earning him a gratifying grunt. "I'll take us out of time. Nice and cozy."

"No, don't," Jean-Luc turned his head and kissed Q firmly.  _You know, there's a certain thrill in working within a tight time allotment. The scramble, the tension. Perhaps we've been too relaxed lately._

( _A "quickie"?_   _You sadist!_ ) Q kissed him back ardently, slipping his hand to Jean-Luc's clothed groin and massaging him through his uniform. Jean-Luc groaned into his throat, tugging on his hair. ( _How much time do we have?_ )

_Fifteen minutes, give or take, provided Danvers doesn't request an early transport._

( _Then I don't intend to waste a single second_.) In a remarkably feline motion Q threw a leg over Picard and pushed him onto his back, straddling his waist. Q's cock was already hard and standing at attention, weeping precum, peeking out from his flimsy robe. He broke their kiss only to take Jean-Luc's bottom lip between his teeth, biting down a little harder than usual. Jean-Luc drew a sharp intake of breath. ( _Oh Jean-Luc, I don't think a few measly minutes is going to be enough time_.)

 _It's going to have to be_. Jean-Luc bucked his hips up, the velvety mound of his growing arousal pressing firmly against Q's tightening balls.  _You're just going to have to be creative, Q_.

Creative. The word wormed its way into Q's essence along with stray ideas he'd been saving for a rainy day. It certainly wasn't raining here but it was always raining  _somewhere_ , so Q supposed it was as good a time as any.

Q slowly sat up, his robe gliding down his shoulders, staring down at Jean-Luc with an overabundance of lust shining in his eyes. "Alright Picard, we're running a tight schedule so I'll make this quick. I'm going to tell you exactly what I'd like to do to you, and you're going to give me a prompt yea or nay."

Jean-Luc rose a brow in intrigue, his chest rising and falling in soft pants. "Proceed."

"I want to fuck you."

"Yes."

"I want to fuck you in your dress uniform."

"Ooh, yes."

Q held up his hand and a black, dual-ringed contraption blinked into existence, floating above his palm for consideration. "I want you to wear a cock-ring."

Jean-Luc's smile disappeared and his sultry expression melted to give way to clear apprehension. "Excuse me, a  _what_?"

" _Time_ , Jean-Luc!" Q groaned. "Come now, surely you've seen one of these a time or two."

"For fear of appearing appallingly prudish, no, I have  _not_."

"Earth sex toy. Used for delaying orgasms."

"What in the universe compelled you to introduce an orgasm-denial sex toy when we're attempting to be  _quick_?"

"Yea or nay!"

"Couldn't you just use your  _powers_ to belay an orgasm? Or your fingers? They've served you well enough in the past. What do we need an  _actual sex toy_  for?"

"Aesthetic!  _Yea or nay_!"

Jean-Luc eyed the floating device with a suspicious squint. "I would really rather not decide something like this on the fly, Q, but I trust you. If I find it intolerable, however-"

"It will be gone, Jean-Luc. I'll rewrite the cosmos to ensure it's never even  _invented_."

"Don't be ridiculous. But thank you."

"Lastly-"

" _Merde_ , there's  _more_?"

Q grinned and leaned forward, sliding his hands into Jean-Luc's palms, pulling the Captain's arms over his head and pinning them to the bed. "Tell me you're mine."

Jean-Luc's mouth tugged at the corners, his expression suggesting he'd just figured something out. " _Possessive_ ," he breathed. "That's what this is. That intensely bright red, that surge of emotion that feels almost like a dog baring its fangs."

"Oh, I've always been possessive of you, Jean-Luc, ever since Farpoint. But I suppose it is a little more…  _potent_ just at the moment." Q ghosted his lips over Jean-Luc's and dipped down to nip at his chin. "Now say it for me, love."

"I'm yours, Q."

Q dragged his tongue from the bend of Jean-Luc's jaw to the crook of his neck, pressing hot kisses to the warm skin there. "Again."

" _Oooh_ ," Jean-Luc's hands found leverage on Q's bare upper arms, squeezing him tightly. "I'm all yours. Only yours."

Q let the sound of the words wash over him, tasting them deep in his center, savoring every drop of sincerity to be found within them. He moved to slip a hand over Jean-Luc's thigh, pushing his legs apart, fondling the hardness he found there. With his pointer finger he traced a circle over the soft material surrounding Jean-Luc's straining cock and down lower, lower, swooping under his cleft. Once both points of the traced shape met, the entire section disappeared, freeing Jean-Luc's cock and giving Q access to the area of his desire. Q shivered when their cocks slid together, and without further delay Q summoned enough lube to thoroughly coat two of his fingers and pressed the digits eagerly into Picard's tight heat.

Jean-Luc's head tilted back into the mattress and he moaned. Q watched his face, starving for every sound, every expression of bliss. Q didn't particularly know how to properly apply a cock ring, but lucky for him he was Q and all that was required was his desire for the end result. As he enthusiastically pumped his fingers inside of Jean-Luc's softly throbbing depths, he wished the rubber toy to its proper position wrapped around the base of his lover's cock, under and around his testicles. He watched aptly as Picard's expression changed like an explosion of color, which he experienced simultaneously in their shared brain space. The complex yet minimal expressions rippling over Jean-Luc's face were so much more  _satisfying._ He looked surprised and euphoric and just a little bit apprehensive, every fleeting emotion an unimaginably beautiful display of eroticism the likes of which Q rarely saw in succession.

"Does it hurt?" Q asked softly, knowing very well that it didn't. He was sharing every shred of the experience with his lover, so much so that his own cock twitched from the tight sensation of the device circled snugly around the base of Picard's, a rush of warmth climbing to the tip.

Jean-Luc let out a slow, stabilizing breath. "It's… odd. Not entirely comfortable, but it doesn't hurt." He groaned as Q's fingers probed him deeply, bending and twisting him loose. " _Mon dieu_ , Q, get on with it…!"

"Impatient,  _mon chéri_?" Q swept his eyes over Jean-Luc's uniformed body and his flushed, exposed genitals, absorbing every erotic detail. There was something wildly pornographic about such an indecent display wrapped up in a prim, proper uniform; oftentimes Q would rather simply banish clothing altogether, forgetting how rewarding it could be to simply create a gateway to the important bits - a proverbial  _fuck hole_ , put plainly. Human copulation was so deliciously obscene. Q traced Picard's lips with his tongue and leaned forward, driving his fingers knuckle-deep. Picard's back bowed beautifully. Q licked and kissed his jaw, breathing hot against his neck. "At last count I believe we still had twelve minutes."

"And I expect you'd want to make sure your cock is inside me for as -  _ah_ \- as long as possible," Jean-Luc breathed, his hands playing aggressively in Q's hair.

"Mm." Q pressed their lips together and withdrew his fingers, pushing between Jean-Luc's thighs. ( _I might be more inclined to get on with things if you ask me nicely_.)

_Q, you ridiculous entity._

( _Call me whatever you like, but don't deny how hard you are right now. Tell me, is that lovely ring starting to feel good? All that hot pressure?_ ) Q angled his hips and pressed the head of his leaking cock against his lover's resistant pucker. Jean-Luc groaned into his mouth, his hips shaking with longing and his swollen cock flushed a marvelous crimson. ( _Let's have it, Picard. Tell me what you'd like me to do_.)

 _You are absolutely incorrigible_.

( _True, but unrelated to my request_.)

It was always a satisfying struggle for power whenever one of them got like this. Both of them were suited to give orders and expect resolute compliance in nearly all aspects of their lives - though how each of them managed this power differed wildly - but they both also found intense eroticism in lending control to the other. For Q, submitting to Jean-Luc was so easy he barely considered it effort. His initial infatuation was born from Picard's unyielding defiance in the face of his power, something he once disregarded as human foolishness but grew to appreciate as power in of itself, relentless, forceful and alarmingly intoxicating. Jean-Luc challenged him, and he welcomed that challenge with gusto. Submitting to that power gave him an unexpected thrill each and every time, but it was monumentally better when Picard  _demanded_ that submission from him instead.

Q never anticipated how pleasurable submission could be for an entity who need not submit to anything or anyone. It was almost freeing.

Jean-Luc had similar feelings on the matter, but it was always harder for him to bend, harder for him to lend his control of a situation. The struggle was part of the fun. And how glorious it was, at least for Q, to watch Jean-Luc grapple with his desire to submit. Jean-Luc Picard, a human who had never transformed a star, created a planet, destroyed a galaxy or made an android laugh had more reservations about begging for cock than a God who could play the universe like a flute. It was a never-ending source of delight.

Q pushed the first inch of his cock into Jean-Luc's twitching hole and then stilled his hips, garnering his lover's reaction. Jean-Luc broke their kiss and tilted his head back, a deep, alluring groan rumbling in his throat, his brow pinching in bliss. Q sampled Jean-Luc's tactile senses and felt the increased pressure circling the base of his cock and balls, intensifying ten-fold the moment of entry. Jean-Luc's inner walls tightened around the head of his cock, protesting against the hot intrusion. Q sighed in satisfaction.

"Oh, Jean-Luc, how do you always manage to feel so  _divine_?"

Jean-Luc bucked his hips helplessly. "Q… Please…"

"That's much better, but still not quite what I need to hear."

"You would deprive yourself while we're working under a time limit?" Jean-Luc growled, his resolve beginning to crumble, "Just to hear me beg?"

"Absolutely," Q grinned, sliding his hands over Jean-Luc's strong thighs, groping him greedily through the thin material of his slacks. Jean-Luc grunted in frustration, his cock laying heavy against his clothed stomach.

"You're wicked."

"The  _words_ , Jean-Luc. Come now, we've only ten minutes left."

It was not often that Jean-Luc blushed, a well-and-true flush on his skin, but when he did it usually started at his neck and crawled into his jaw and cheeks, followed immediately by a sharp dilation of his pupils. Q always caught a thrill whenever he elicited such a tender response, though it was nearly always a result of being asked to say lascivious things.

" _Please_ , Q," Jean-Luc set his ashen eyes on Q firmly, which was less than convincing when his eyes were so glazed with arousal and desperation, "I want you to fuck me."

Somehow even when Picard was pleading it sounded more like a command. Q traced his pointer finger lazily up the length of Jean-Luc's impossibly hot cock, earning him a gasp and a deep, trembling groan. His finger came to rest on the weeping tip, rubbing him in methodical circles. "You would like me to fuck you with  _what_?" Q continued, his voice sugary sweet. Jean-Luc didn't have the resolve to look murderous but Q could certainly  _feel_ the intent.

"With your cock," Jean-Luc gasped, his hands grasping for Q's knees in an attempt to anchor himself. "I want you to fuck me with your cock."

Q's mouth pulled into a slow grin. He snapped his hips forward and plunged his arousal deeply inside of his mortal lover, overwhelmed by the sensations he was both sharing and experiencing, the hot feeling of being penetrated, the tight feeling of Jean-Luc's muscles clamping down on his cock to keep him buried there. It was always destabilizing, it was always  _wonderful_ , and it took Q far too long to remember that they were not currently existing outside of linear time. He gripped Jean-Luc under the knees and began a slow rhythm with steady, sweet pumps, his attention focused on the center of their joining.

"It's so perfect," Q groaned, his hand playing over the pretty gold trimmings of Jean-Luc's uniform, "You wrap around me in ways that  _defy_ perfection. I didn't create a penis with the intention of ever using it, Jean-Luc, so imagine my surprise the first time I fucked you to find that I fit inside you so  _splendidly_. And on the reverse, of course, that you fit so well inside of me. There isn't a word in your language that embodies how impeccably we come together."

Jean-Luc's eyes were screwed shut, his head tossed to the side as he fought to coordinate his breathing and his soft sounds of pleasure. "Y-you're cheating," Jean-Luc huffed, fingertips digging into Q's knees.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You've got this… this device on me, and you  _know_ how much that sort of talk-" he broke off his thread of thought with a strangled moan of pleasure.

Q chuckled darkly and leaned forward, picking up the pace by a much-needed fraction. "I never said... I was going... to play fair."

"When  _do_ you?"

"Hush," Q crooned, gaining compliance by thrusting roughly once, twice, and a third time only when he could feel the beginnings of another word forming in Jean-Luc's mind. "If you don't behave, we'll play a punishment game."

"That was -  _haah, ah_  - never part of the arrangement,"

"I'm improvising." Q answered. "I'm no longer sure ten minutes of this is enough for me. I may have to extend our session."

"I forbid it," Jean-Luc panted, though it vaguely sounded like the idea wasn't disagreeable in the slightest.

"That doesn't sound very much like behaving at all," Q pointed out, throwing his body over Jean-Luc's to drive his cock deeper inside, his thrusts sharp and rough. He nipped at Jean-Luc's earlobe. "What if I decided to fuck you forever?" he purred, claiming the immediate explosion of color and triumphant reverberations in his lover's consciousness as his victory. "I've thought about it, you know. There simply isn't enough time in the universe to enjoy you properly. I could steal you away. Create a space just for the two of us, so that I could make love to you endlessly. Eternal pleasure in the most literal sense."

"Good lord, Q…!  _Aah_ -!"

Q slid his nimble fingers to grasp Jean-Luc's cock, delighted to find the organ so much hotter and engorged than it usually was, even when Q used his fingers to achieve that same effect. There were many things about humanity Q had no restraint in criticizing - he knew now sex toys would never be among them. Picard's reaction to being touched was absolutely electric. His back bowed away from the bed and he let out an almost pained cry that might have prompted Q to stop what he was doing if he hadn't felt the flood of euphoria that immediately followed, or observed the way Jean-Luc's body begged him for more, squeezing down on his cock with blessid tightness.

Q began slowly stroking him, intensifying the heat in his palm to add to the torment. Jean-Luc's breath caught sharply in his throat. Q could feel his own release building violently in his loins.

"You're so close," Q grunted as he put his weight into his hips, thrusting inside his lover as deeply as he was able. "I can feel your orgasm creeping into your groin, but its progress -  _ah_ \- is being cruelly stunted. Do you want to come, Jean-Luc?"

Picard couldn't answer. His body was wracked with pleasure, his cock engorged and leaking, his hole accepting Q inside again and again. Q groaned as Jean-Luc's insides clamped down on him, inner muscles pulsing around his throbbing member with need. He buried his face in his lover's neck and came deep inside him, revelling in Jean-Luc's hard-fought moans as he was filled. Amidst the overwhelming pleasure, Q could clearly feel Jean-Luc's frustration as his own orgasm hit a wall. Q dragged ragged breaths through his teeth, resting his forehead on Jean-Luc's shoulder as he struggled to scrape together enough coherence to continue.

 _Q…. Please…._  Jean-Luc's telepathic voice rarely sounded so desperate and utterly wanton. The sound of it shot a surge of elation straight through Q's center, his physical body shivering from the force of it, his hardness slipping out of Jean-Luc's twitching hole.

"You can come, but not until you're inside me," Q murmured, a lazy grin on his lips as he repositioned himself. He lifted his hips up and over Jean-Luc's thighs, taking his lover's twitching organ in his hand and guiding it to his own unfilled hole. Jean-Luc's hands flew to Q's hips, gripping him so hard Q thought sure he could leave bruises if Q were a creature that could bruise. Picard opened his tightly-shut eyes in time to see Q lower himself onto his throbbing cock, taking his entire length with one quick motion. Q's cry of pleasure caught in his throat, coming out as a pitiful sob. He felt so much more full than usual, so full and amazingly  _complete_. No matter how much he enjoyed making love to Picard, nothing in the vast universe rivaled being filled by him like this.

Picard's orgasm was instantaneous. Q tossed his head back, groaning low in his throat, his insides clamping down greedily on Jean-Luc's cock as spurt after spurt of warm come flooded into him, so much more forceful than usual.

Q pitched forward, panting and trembling, his hips still firmly seated in Jean-Luc's lap. He could sense Jean-Luc's consciousness flickering from the intensity and gently stabilized him, pressing kisses to his clammy neck. Somehow he maintained the clarity of mind to wish the cock ring away and thoroughly clean him up, repairing the hole in his slacks. Jean-Luc let out a stuttering sigh, his entire body going slack in Q's arms.

"Q…  _Bon dieu_ …"

"Three minutes," Q mumbled against Jean-Luc's jaw, not quite ready to relinquish the feeling of Jean-Luc's warm seed stuffed deep inside his tender mortal depths. "Are you absolutely sure you don't want me to take us out of time? Just to give us proper time to come down?"

Jean-Luc managed a sleepy laugh, running a hand lazily through Q's hair. "No, no. Come on. We can make it to the transporter room in  _two_ minutes if we hurry."

Q groaned theatrically. "'Hurrying' isn't something that is typically done right after such amazing sex," he pointed out, summoning a surge of energy to help rejuvenate them.

"That's precisely what a 'quickie' entails, Q." Jean-Luc gently grasped the back of Q's neck and dragged him in for a soft kiss, using up 8 seconds of precious time before pulling away and moving to sit up. "Clearly we need to have more real-time sex."

Q snapped his fingers and appeared beside the bed, fully-dressed in a matching dress uniform. He snapped a second time to snuff out one of his four shiny pips. "I suppose the concept is exciting enough, but then you end up sacrificing all the sappy moments afterward! What of laying in bed for hours, caressing each other, kissing, whispering? The  _afterglow_ , Jean-Luc!"

Picard chuckled and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching out to curl his hands around the back of Q's knees to gently pull him closer. "You realize that most people don't have the privilege of spending countless hours together after making love, correct? Their lives continue, they have families and jobs to keep them busy. There are only so many hours in a day."

"Not a concern you have to worry about anymore,  _mon capitaine_." Q grinned down at him, sliding his hands over Jean-Luc's shoulders and giving him a gentle squeeze. Did he know the depth of those words, that promise? For the remainder of his existence, time would stand still for Jean-Luc Picard. Q would have granted him the ability to manipulate time without his assistance long ago, if he'd known Jean-Luc would accept such a gift. He wouldn't, of course, which is why Q never offered.

"Yes." Q thought Jean-Luc's smile looked a tad strained. "A notion that occasionally frightens me."

The words stung Q somewhere in the softest part of his center. He searched the expanse of their unified thoughts to try and discern what couldn't be said with words, but he found no great sadness or dissatisfaction within. His relief was only slight. Sometimes words were just words, but they hurt just the same.

"Q, I realize I don't often ask, but we may need the sort of transportation that only you can provide," Jean-Luc said with a reassuring smile. "In about 10 seconds we're going to be  _very_ late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know, this chapter was mostly just smut (if not ENTIRELY smut) and I promised angst, but bear with me! Things are about to massively kick up in the next chapter and after that point there won't be much time (or any time, really,) for sexual endeavors for a while. So consider this chapter a little treat before the shit storm rolls in, heh heh. 
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying this installment so far! The comments section has been a little more quiet in this installment, and I'm not sure whether it's simply a sign of how long I've been posting this story or... something else. ˓˓(ᑊᘩᑊ⁎) What can I say, writers are delicate people and we need constant reassurance or else we shrivel up in our own insecurities!! lol Please drop a comment if you enjoyed, or even just if you'd like to chat!


	4. Chapter 4

Not many mortal creatures captured Q's interest, but he had to admit the Venki had an undeniable air of grace and authority that was difficult to find fault with. Physically they were delicate, tall and slender, with rigid, triangular torsos. They were haunting, but their appearance put your mind in a peaceful state of contentment whether you liked it or not. As the party's patterns were rematerialized on the transporter pad, Ambassador Nazaz appeared to be the tallest of her group, her pointed shoulders covered in long, thick ropes of silver hair interwoven with shining lavender thread that was tied in a heavy half-bun behind her head. Not unlike the rest of her species, Nazaz's skin was a soft cyan and she bore a deeply ridged forehead and chin, covered additionally by unique white markings that were tattooed on each Venki's face shortly after birth to determine their role in society. They had no real noses to speak of, only a pair of long slits where the nose would usually be.

The ambassador glided off of the transporter pad like an enchanting siren emerging from a misty lake, her head held high, round blue eyes slowly sweeping over the small entourage that had come to welcome her. The two people flanking either side of her were practically eclipsed by Nazaz's quiet grandeur, but nonetheless she was joined by Admiral Danvers and another Venki, a male dressed in more casual, subservient attire with shorter, wilder hair. Behind them were three Venki bearing identical facial tattoos and thicker, less colorful clothing, bedecked with glassy, sloping weapons at their hips. The sight of it spurred a tingle of raw protectiveness inside of Q that almost made him chuckle.

Jean-Luc stepped forward with a welcoming smile, and the ambassador greeted them with a gracious nod. "Welcome aboard the  _USS Enterprise_ , Ambassador. I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard." Jean-Luc gestured to each member of his entourage in turn, "This is my first officer William Riker, our ship's counsellor Deanna Troi, and our liaison officer and deep space advisor, Q." It was impossible to miss the sharp twist of Danver's head in his direction, and it took everything Q had not to look the man dead in the eye and smirk.

The ambassador locked her eyes on each of them as they were introduced, nodding to them politely, her gaze lingering on Q a fraction longer than the others. "It is a pleasure to meet you all." she said, her accent thick even with the help of their universal translators. "This is my assistant Bek, and it is my understanding that you and Admiral Danvers need no introduction."

Jean-Luc grinned at the Admiral, nodding his head. "No, indeed. It's good to see you, Phillip."

"And you, Jean-Luc. Thanks for being so prompt."

The ambassador's eyes were glued to Picard, her expression hard to read. "Please accept my deepest apologies for putting you and your crew to such trouble, Captain. It is most generous of you to accept this mission, and on behalf of my people, I thank you."

"You are most welcome, Ambassador. I assure you it's no trouble. This ship has seen its fair share of delegates on missions of peace, and we are always more than happy to assist."

"That is most admirable of you." Nazaz steepled her long hands at her waist and approached Picard with a penetrating stare that Q assumed was meant to be friendly, but to more openly emotional creatures might have seemed slightly off-putting. Jean-Luc had to crane his neck to look her in the eye; the Venki all appeared to be quite tall, but Nazaz was practically a full head taller than all of them. "My people have not had much contact with humans prior to the attack on our cruiser, but so far I have found humans to be impeccably gracious and helpful. I will not forget your assistance, Captain Picard."

Jean-Luc smiled in that special way he reserved for diplomatic guests, the kind of smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and lit up his face in a way that seemed to encourage immediate and unconditional trust. "That's very kind of you. But I must point out, counselor Troi is half-betazoid, and Q here is… Well, a Q."

The ambassador shifted her entrancing, unblinking eyes on Deanna, moving softly and carefully to stand before her, looking deep into her eyes. To Q's slight surprise, Deanna nearly seemed to blush under her gaze; perhaps the empath was sensing something he wasn't? Whatever it was, it was making Riker shift uncomfortably beside him, so Q thought it was marvelous. Nazaz languidly picked up one of Deanna's hands and leaned over to press a kiss to her knuckles.

"I have observed this ritual since arriving on the station," she explained as Deanna stood rooted to the spot, her lips parted in a stunned gasp that never quite became audible. "I hope I have not offended you."

"Not at all," Deanna was quick to say, followed by a fluttering laugh that went on for a suspiciously long amount of time.

"Our people have not made contact with betazoids, but we have been aware of them. Is it true you can read the thoughts of others?"

Deanna grinned gently. "That's true of betazoids, but I'm only half-betazoid. My abilities are limited to sensing the emotions of others around me."

"I see," Nazaz said airily. "I would enjoy learning more about your empathic abilities at a later time, should you permit it."

"Of course!" Deanna answered a little too quickly. The ambassador's eyes moved to Q next, and she approached him with the same slow, hypnotizing steps that almost seemed to blend together to give the illusion of gliding. She stared at him for a long moment, observing his face and eyes closely. He bit back all of the usual comments he might typically unleash and tried to behave as generically Starfleet as he could manage. Along with Nazaz he could feel the Admiral's gaze on him, and he knew whose scrutiny was more important just at the moment.

"I have never heard of the Q," the ambassador remarked coolly. "You look completely human. I was not aware that so many humanoid species shared the same outward appearance."

Q smiled as cordially as he knew how. "Oh ambassador, I can look like anything, or  _be_ anything. I prefer to take human form while I'm among them, but I could just as easily look as you do." he said. "You might say it's a talent of ours."

If Nazaz was surprised, her face did not relay it. Q was tempted to dip into her mind just because he hated not knowing, but he refrained. As odd as it seemed, he trusted her. Q might have assumed the Venki had some kind of telepathic talent for making their presence inherently agreeable, but he sensed no such abilities from the ambassador or the others.

"Quite fascinating," the ambassador hummed in intrigue, eyeing Q up and down, "if you would be so inclined, I would adore a demonstration. At a later time, of course, and only if you are willing."

"Party tricks are also a talent of ours, ambassador." Q grinned.

Nazaz nodded with a soft smile and delicately stepped back, joining her assistant with her hands once again joined calmly at her waist. "I would very much like to see your ship, Captain, if it isn't too much trouble."

"No trouble, we'd be happy to." Jean-Luc turned to Will and gave his arm a pat. "Commander Riker and Troi can escort you wherever you'd like to go, but I recommend making the bridge your first stop - if you've never been inside a  _Sovereign_ -class starship before, I think you'll be in for a treat."

Will smiled and gestured to the door. "This way, ambassador."

Ambassador Nazaz nodded politely and moved through the door, her assistant and security team gliding just behind her; Riker cast Jean-Luc and Q a pointed look before he followed after them, his fiance bringing up the rear of the congregation and still looking mildly flustered and giddy.

The Admiral's eyes were on Q immediately, and the curl of his smile suggested he was more than a little unnerved to be in such close quarters with him before he'd had proper warning. If Jean-Luc was smug about his small tactical victory, his face certainly wasn't emulating it, and even when Q brushed his lover's consciousness with his own he couldn't seem to sense anything past the wall of unyielding focus that tended to occupy his mind when he was on-duty.

"Well now," Danvers spoke, stepping toward Q and holding out his hand. Q resisted the urge to sneer at such a blatantly feigned gesture. "You must be the Q I've heard so much about."

Why oh  _why_ did humans insist on pushing their primitive, awkward handshakes on every alien species they encountered? Q took the man's hand in a firm shake, almost sick with himself for complying to this pompous human's whims, for lowering himself to meet such limited human standards. "The one and only." he chirped with a decidedly tame smile.

"I admit I wasn't expecting to meet you so soon." He glanced at Jean-Luc, who had appeared at Q's side. "I expect Jean-Luc has made mention that I wanted to speak with you?"

"Oh yes," Q answered, "He relayed your request a couple of days ago, and I'm flattered, Admiral. I'm only too happy to oblige, of course." This civil discourse was going to drive him insane if he didn't break it up somehow. Gently he prodded Jean-Luc's mind with his thoughts. ( _How do you think the good Admiral would react if I were to tell him about everything we got up to before we came to meet him? All of the wonderful things I did to you, to your body?_ )

Outwardly Jean-Luc didn't so much as twitch, but inside a strong pulse vibrated in his center.  _Q, this is ridiculously bad timing and I suspect you know that._

( _Au contraire, the timing couldn't be better._ )

"Well that's good to hear." Danvers smiled, his brow pinching in consideration as he looked Q up and down. "I have to say, Q, you're not quite what I expected."

"Oh?" ( _How many colors do you think he would turn if I told him that my favorite activity is taking your cock in my mouth and my body? If he knew the Almighty Q who the Federation still considers a potent threat to humanity would drop to his knees before you without question, would do anything at all to satiate your desires if only you asked?_ ) "I do hope to have exceeded your expectations, Admiral."

_Q… Good lord…_

( _Look, I've got to do something to distract from the fact that I'm being polite to this primate in a uniform. Dirty talk sounded like a good alternative to snapping him into a black hole_.)

_And you thought attempting to give me an erection while I'm standing 25 centimeters away from him was the proper alternative?_

( _Party pooper._ )

Danvers conjured up a vaguely forced laugh, his lips pulling up to reveal his front row of teeth. "I can't say I have many expectations at this juncture. I only hoped I might speak with you, maybe get to know you better."

"Of course." Q answered with a chuckle that easily rivaled the Admiral's in its deceit.

( _Oh, can't I just tell him about all the amazing sex we have, just to see the look on his face, and wipe his memory right after? I mean, you have to admit_ -)

Q's surface thoughts were torn asunder with a sharp snap of white-yellow, surging and queasy, almost too sudden to throw up a wall in time. It was never particularly pleasant when the Continuum called on him, but this time it felt especially jarring. Even through the haze of discomfort Q's first priority was to shield Jean-Luc from the brunt of it, from the torrent of countless voices and colors that seared furiously into Q's center. The force of it nearly knocked Q off his feet, but he managed to keep himself upright with only minimal swaying. Regardless, he caught the immediate attention of the men, and he felt Jean-Luc's hand strongly on his upper arm, stabilizing him.

"Q?" Jean-Luc's voice suddenly lost it's authoritative edge, and Q felt oddly guilty for causing such a rare loss of his focus.  _Q, what was that just now? I heard… Well, I'm not sure what I heard, but it was loud. Are you alright?_

"I'm fine," Q answered, squaring his shoulders and ignoring the gnawing pain impatiently tugging on his essence. Danvers was frowning, peering at Q curiously underneath his prominent brow. ( _It's the Continuum. They want to speak with me. I'm sorry, mon capitaine. I need to go._ ) "My apologies, Admiral, but our talk will have to wait. I'm needed elsewhere at the moment. Urgently."

_Q, do you have any idea what they could want?_

( _I'm afraid not. Not this time, but they haven't called on me for a while now. I'd say I'm overdue_.) Jean-Luc's concern was potent, powerful enough to temporarily drown out the insurmountable flood of voices from the Continuum. ( _Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it_.)

For a moment, Admiral Danvers looked as though he intended to question Q's sudden departure, but finally nodded and clapped Jean-Luc on the shoulder. "Quite alright, we can chat tomorrow. I had some things to go over with Jean-Luc here, I'm sure we'll have plenty to keep ourselves occupied with."

Jean-Luc forced a smile. "Of course."  _Q, come back soon. I love you_.

( _Tu es l'amour de ma vie. Have fun with our dear Mr. Danvers, I'll see you tonight_.)

"Till tomorrow then, Admiral," Q grinned, with a cheesy half-bow. "Ta-ta." In a flash of light he was gone, shedding his mortal projection and dissolving instantly into thought and light and color, dread lacing through every inch of his essence.

.

.

.

_The atmosphere is thick and howling._

_The colors are swirling together into something turbulent and hot like an energy burst, an erupting volcano, the surface of a dying sun._

_q is backed into a corner, dog-like, tempted to snap its fangs at the pockets of noise closing in around it._

_Amidst the chaos q can hear the conflicting opinions, the voices speaking out against one another to come to some sort of decision._

_Whatever decision they arrive at is irrelevant._

_This isn't a prosecution. Not really a judgement, either._

_It's an interrogation, one that q wasn't prepared for, one he thought he had escaped but now knew better._

_q's mind is flung open for all to see, and wall after wall flies up to deter the Others from reaching inside and pulling everything out, to no avail._

_It is laid bare._

_q illustrates its rancor with deep red and a refusal to cooperate further without good reason. It is too late._

_Jean-Luc Picard._

_We are aware of him. This human starship captain._

_These tremors are strange. Unnatural._

_Emotions, mortal emotions._

_Explain._

_Explain!_

_q's fury ends their questions with an explosion of crackling energy, an emotional response, they know, but it can't be helped._

_Jean-Luc's name will not be spoken by them, not in that way, as though he is something unsavory and loathsome._

_The entirety of the Continuum bends and presses down, down, demanding answers that q cannot give and q is straining under the pressure._

_q is defective. Unbalanced. It isn't the first time._

_Many voices raise in defense of this q, citing recent deeds to aid the Continuum that should be noted._

_There are no rules against fraternization, cry some._

_It is impure, it is polluting us, cry others. Most agree to the pollution._

_Even now it spreads like a drop of ink on delicate cloth, and the other q shrink from the tendrils, seeing within each snaking thread all the shame and exhilaration and euphoria this q feels over the strange fondness that has gripped them. This willingness to take a mortal form, this desire to adhere to insignificant mortal standards of living, to remain so strongly connected to the human Jean-Luc Picard._

_It is unclean._

_q wants to fend them all off with a stick, wants to leave, wants to end this pointless inquisition that serves no real purpose._

_They disagree._

_There is a purpose, they cry, things must be understood. Must be established._

_You are allowed to explain, they say. Explain._

_q can't explain._

_q can't say anything at all._

_How do you explain color to a blind man?_

.

.

.

On the outer edge of a supermassive black hole, a dark-haired man was sitting disinterestedly amongst a cluster of space debris, his legs crossed, one foot bobbing impatiently. He glowered at the inky abyss as it pulled everything around it into its eternal nothingness - slowly and inefficiently, because of its gluttonous mass and density - and crossed his arms tightly across his uniformed chest, feeling the thump of his falsely human heart against the back of his hand.

Q wasn't sure how long he'd been trapped in the Continuum. It felt like weeks. Weeks of endless questions, an equal outpouring of protest and support. He felt he'd been stripped naked and put on display. He could deal with that. What he couldn't deal with was his memories of Jean-Luc being pulled out and splayed over the entirety of the Continuum, or hearing his lover's name being spoken by such contemptuous tongues.

Q dropped his head in his hands. Something hot and horrible surged within him, deep regret for having gotten Jean-Luc involved in this, for letting himself fall in love with a human in the first place.

 _No_ \- no. He could never regret falling in love. He refused to relinquish even a second of his time with Jean-Luc to anyone, not the Continuum, and certainly not himself.

A flash of light directly to his left surprised Q enough to make him jump. A humanoid female with honey-blonde hair, round eyes and pouting lips appeared beside him, staring into his surprised face with a reproachful expression.

"Q!" he exclaimed, almost furiously.

"Hey," she answered tepidly, trying a half-smile, "mind if I, uhm… hang around?"

"Yes," Q sneered, turning back to the black hole and suddenly staring at it as though it were terribly interesting. "Actually, I do."

The blonde Q winced. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Absolutely." There was a short silence, and then: "How did you even  _find_ me, Q?"

Q shrugged her shoulders up. "I tried to catch up with you before you left the Continuum. It wasn't too hard to track you from there." She sighed and stretched her arms out in front of her, pulling her knees up and hugging them to her chest. "I wanted to see how you were. All of that back there… That was terrible, Q."

"Oh thank you for reminding me, I'd already forgotten," Q answered waspishly. He sighed loudly. "Now leave me alone, before I toss you into that black hole with the rest of the junk floating around."

"I've grown numb to your attitude, you know," the other Q reminded pointedly. "I don't rattle as easily as I used to."

Q rolled his eyes. "How wonderful." He raised one of his hands, middle finger and thumb poised to strike together. "I don't care." He snapped his fingers and the Q once called Amanda Rogers vanished in a diamond of light, only to reappear a moment later on Q's opposite side wearing a slightly more miffed expression. He raised his hand again, but Q swatted it right back down.

"Stop that!" she said with a frown. "Are you  _really_ going to shoo away the only other Q in the Continuum who actually understands and experiences mortal emotions?"

Q opened his mouth to dismiss the silly girl, but he quickly realized he didn't have the energy to argue. He sighed, crossed his arms again and continued to stare at the black hole. "Fine. Stay if you must, but I'm not sure what you're hoping to accomplish."

The girl scooted closer, hugging her arms. "I came to see if you wanted to talk. Or something."

Q groaned. "Oh spare me. If I've become so pitiable that I need to be consoled by a  _half-breed_ then perhaps the Continuum should just strike me down right now."

"Q, just don't. I was there, I saw everything that happened. And I also know that you really, deeply love Captain Picard. There's nothing wrong with needing to talk about it with someone."

"What makes you think I'm not going to talk to Jean-Luc about it?" Q demanded hotly.

The blonde Q's brows shot up and she eyed him with an uncomfortably penetrating look. "Because you're here staring at a black hole on the opposite end of the universe," she pointed out.

"Fair," Q admitted grudgingly.

The young Q allowed a moment of silence to pass between them, and in that moment Q found it within him to relax. He wasn't really angry with her, they both knew that, he just hated to get caught licking his wounds. After a time, Q finally found it necessary to speak.

"What made you come after me, anyway?" he asked the girl. "Pity?"

"Not exactly," she replied thoughtfully. "More like camaraderie. In a small way, I think I know what you're going through."

"Oh do tell," Q chuckled unbelievingly.

The female Q pursed her lips. "Well, I  _did_ walk around with human emotions for 18 years, you know. I haven't forgotten what it feels like. Ever since I joined the Continuum I've had to pretend I don't understand those emotions, pretend I wasn't born human. It isn't fair, and I don't think it's fair that they put you on the spot like that."

Q shot her a prominent frown. "Are you comparing your sheepish, fawning little maiden's crush on  _Riker_ to my eternal devotion to the magnificent Jean-Luc Picard?" he barked a harsh laugh. " _Please_."

"Okay, it's not exactly the same thing, but you know what I'm talking about," Q said defensively with a roll of her pretty eyes. "Oh, why did I even bother coming?" she murmured under her breath.

A small shred of guilt snaked its sad way through Q's essence. He sighed and glanced at her with a petulant grimace. "I'm… sorry." he cleared his throat. "Thanks for bothering, I suppose."

The blonde Q smiled. "Q would have come along too, but we couldn't both get away."

Q had to suppress his next groan. The only thing more demoralizing than a human-born Q rushing to comfort him in his time of need would be his own emblematic offspring joining the effort. He realized with an unpleasant shudder that he might be receiving a very different sort of visit from another female Q in the near future. Q heaved a sigh large enough to lift his shoulders. "So, I'm defective. Unbalanced. Single-handedly polluting the Continuum.  _That's_ a new one. Usually I'm just irresponsible and disobedient, so I suppose I should be happy that my repertoire is growing." He glanced at the girl with a raised brow. "Any word after I left?"

Q shook her head. "The Continuum is very divided at the moment. You still have a lot of support from much of the Continuum, but beyond that, everyone seems repugnant with the idea that individualism could possibly beget mortal love or attachment."

"Like  _they_ would know," Q mumbled crossly.

The young Q tilted her head at Q with real worry shining in her eyes. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. You know what solution the Continuum tends to favor when a Q does something… New. Something they can't understand."

The death of Amanda Roger's parents settled uncomfortably in Q's human stomach. Although he'd had no direct part in their death, he couldn't deny that until now - when his own situation was becoming worryingly familiar - he hadn't cast them a second thought. Now that the possibility of being truly exiled or executed by the Continuum hung over his head like a swinging noose, Q conveniently felt an alarming amount of empathy for them.

Much more than empathy, Q felt terror. Rage. Helplessness. He'd involved Jean-Luc in all of this, he'd put him directly in the line of fire. Best case scenario, the Continuum would leave him alone, consider this unworthy of their time. Worst case… No, Q refused to even consider it. The Continuum would not touch him. Q would bring an end to the universe and everyone in it before he let any harm come to Jean-Luc Picard, of that he was absolutely certain.

When Q finally snapped out of his unhappy reverie, he noticed Q staring up at him with round, vaguely horrified eyes. He couldn't help from shrinking under her unwavering gaze.

"You're more concerned about Captain Picard's safety than your own?" It was less of a question and more of a wondrous observation, almost insulting in its bewilderment. "I-I felt it all when I was in the Continuum but I thought maybe the emotion was amplified because it was being shared by our brothers and sisters, but…" She shook her head, studying Q's face carefully. "Your love for him shakes the fabric of the Continuum, Q. It's no wonder they're concerned."

"So you agree with them?" Q asked, wishing he could sound more menacing and less pitiful. "Do you think I'm defunct?"

"No." Q said firmly, flavored with humanity's enduring passion for freedom. "I don't think it's right for the Continuum to tell any one of us what we can or can't feel - or for that matter, who we can feel it for - but you have to admit some of the Continuum's concern might be warranted. Love can be a dangerous emotion on its own, but when you add immortality and omnipotence-"

"Thank you for your valued input," Q cut in curtly, "but it's a little late for a warning, wouldn't you say?"

Q sucked her lips into her mouth and fell silent. For a time they watched the black hole in silence, neither of them really focusing on its sluggish, consuming routine. Q knew she was right. From the beginning he'd known that his feelings for Jean-Luc were as gluttonous as a black hole and infinitely more consuming. And the  _pain_ ; even now, the thought of being barred from ever seeing Jean-Luc again was wreaking havoc on his essence, tightening like a vice around his center. He didn't know what to do. The Continuum was considering judgement at this very moment, and whatever they ruled, he would be powerless to stop them. His hope was that they might rule in his favor, but that hope was becoming more and more distant all the time.

"Are you going to tell Captain Picard?" Q asked in a tone soft and worried.

Q sighed through his nose, slowly. "Yes. I promised I wouldn't hide anything from him."

"You won't do anything rash, will you?" she asked, a thinly veiled strain of panic in her voice.

A ringing silence answered her question, unsettling in its decisiveness. After a time Q's lips parted as though to say something, but he paused, taking another moment to wet his lips. "Thank you for coming after me, Q. Really." Q raised his hand, fingers poised to snap. "Also: If you tell anyone I said that, you're dead to me." He snapped, leaving the girl alone to witness electromagnetic radiation and debris lethargically dissipate into the grand void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update! :D Only by a few hours, but still. I’m a creature of routine so it’s weird for me. 
> 
> Here come the Venki! I really like them, possibly more than I like the gelfa. And we get to see a little slice of the Continuum, although I wish it were a more pleasant visit, but ehh, what can you do. When Q are in the Continuum existing in their natural forms, gender obviously no longer applies so I refer to Q as ‘them’ or ‘they’, I hope that’s not too confusing D:
> 
> Amanda will be back, she’s going to play a pretty important role in all of this actually. ;3 As well as… Well, pretty much every other Q character lol 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! <3


	5. Chapter 5

It had been two days since Q had been summoned to the Continuum.

Picard wasn't so fragile as to fret over being without his lover for two full days. It was more the fact that Q had been called to the Continuum for the first time since their relationship began, an event that both of them had been dreading since their conversation on Yern a year ago, coupled with the fact that Q had promised and then failed to return that same night. The call of the Continuum was still fresh in Picard's brain, leaving a dull numbness in the front of his skull whenever he remembered it, unsettling in its collective similarity to the Borg's song.

The worst part was the heavy feeling of helplessness that grew as the hours crawled on. He could do nothing for Q now. On Yern he'd made some big promise to protect their relationship, to defend what they had together come what may. How could he have ever claimed something so foolish? Q held the power of a God at his fingertips but compared to the might of the Continuum he was nothing. And if Q was nothing, Jean-Luc was little more than a speck of dust floating through space on a slightly bigger speck. All he could do was wait and hope. The uncertainty was maddening.

There was nothing else for it. Jean-Luc threw himself into his work with gusto, his focused enthusiasm not escaping the meticulous eye of Deanna Troi who cornered him halfway through his shift to ask him if everything was alright. Obviously nothing was alright and he told her so, but even Deanna couldn't offer useful words of advice for such a situation so she didn't dare try. She clasped his hand in hers, and that was enough.

Picard's shift had long since ended, but he had no desire to return to his chambers. He knew Q had not returned. Q's consciousness was so far from his mind the vacancy was almost painful, like a wound that was trying to heal but the scab kept getting ripped off. The last thing Jean-Luc wanted to do was go back to an empty room filled wall to wall with memories of Q, to an empty bed thick with the unpleasant reminder of why it was empty.

Jean-Luc very rarely stepped foot in Ten Forward for any reason aside from visiting with Guinan. Tonight was no different. He waited until the lounge was good and empty before entering through the bar-side door, hoping to find Guinan still cleaning up. No such luck. Guinan was stationed behind the bar, hands latticed and resting neatly on the counter, her eyes already fixed to the spot where Jean-Luc stood. She watched him as he came in, a knowing smile on her lips.

"How did you know?" Jean-Luc walked to the bar and sat himself down exactly where Guinan intended him to sit. The Listener rested her chin in her hand, her smile not slipping an inch.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't try and convince me you regularly station yourself at the bar when there are no patrons left to serve. You were waiting for me, go on and admit it."

Guinan shrugged her shoulders up. "I might have had a hunch that you would stop by."

"Any particular reason?" Jean-Luc ventured.

Guinan dipped behind the bar and pulled out a familiar bottle, setting it on the counter. Aldebaran whiskey, Jean-Luc knew that sickly emerald hue anywhere, and the fact that Guinan was producing it for him now could only mean that he looked worse than he felt. She tapped a finger against the neck of the bottle. "Well, I haven't seen Q around for a couple of days - not that I'm too torn up about that, but last I heard he'd been called away by the Continuum. It was easy enough to put together."

Jean-Luc ran a hand down his face and rubbed his eyes. "So I suppose I don't need to say anything more," he said wearily.

Guinan twisted open the bottle, setting down two shallow glasses and filling them both only a quarter full. "That's not true at all, I think you have a lot to say." She pushed one of the glasses nearer to the Captain and returned her posture to one of effortless attentiveness, a tactic her species exuded with frustrating authenticity. "I just think you need a little help figuring out how to say it."

The Captain resisted the urge to down his drink in one gulp, instead sipping it gingerly for a long moment before setting it back down, keeping his fingers curled tightly around the glass. "The trouble is," he started, his voice thicker than he would have liked, "I'm not sure what good talking is going to do." Guinan's expression barely altered, only a twitch of her brow, a clear invitation to continue. Jean-Luc sighed. "I'm worried. Q is impossibly far away from me, and if the Continuum decides to keep him or banish him or-" he drew in a tight breath, "- _destroy_  him, there's nothing I can do. And perhaps worse, I'd never even know what became of him." It never ceased to amaze him how readily he opened up to Guinan, how quick he was to reveal the vulnerabilities he took care to hide from everyone else, even Deanna. The fair point to make would be that Guinan was El-Aurian, but both of them knew that it took more than a species with heightened persuasive abilities to get Jean-Luc to spill his beans. There had to be some transcending element of trust involved, the sort of familial love that Jean-Luc admittedly hadn't even shared with his own blood relatives.

"Sounds like you've already decided that the worst is inevitable," Guinan said with an air of finality.

"I'm being too pessimistic, I know," Jean-Luc sighed, cupping his glass between his hands and staring into it. "But to be quite honest with you I'm not sure what else to be in this situation. I'm not in the habit of feeling so powerless and blind."

Guinan picked up her glass, methodically rolling her wrist to gently slosh the emerald liquid inside. "No, you certainly aren't."

Jean-Luc drained his glass, a surge of heat rising into his neck and jaw. He was silent for a time, studying his glass with a crinkled brow. "Guinan."

"Yes, Captain."

"You didn't approve of… of what Q and I have become to one another, not at first."

Guinan smiled wide. " _No_ , Captain."

Jean-Luc returned her smile. As his relationship with Q had gradually become more public to the senior staff, he had heard the overly polite 'your personal life is none of my business' line more times than he cared to count. He appreciated Guinan's much more candid approach. It gave him a sort of strange comfort. As assurance that he wasn't being lied to.

"I expected that. Far be it for me not to understand. But I believe it's safe to say you've come around after all this time, is that right?"

"Safe to say, yes." Guinan leaned in closer. "Let's just say he's convinced me. I've known the Q for a long time, that one in particular. I never knew they could be capable of anything like this." She poured Picard another shot's worth of whiskey. "Did you know he has regular lunch dates with Data?  _Lunch dates_. An omnipotent entity who doesn't eat food and an android who doesn't need to, sitting across a table together having conversations that most people around them couldn't hope to comprehend. I've seen many things over the span of my lifetime, but  _that_ ," she let loose an amused snort, "that's new."

Jean-Luc chuckled. "Yes, I'm aware. Data quite enjoys their lunches, and though Q won't outright admit it, he does as well. They're an odd pair."

Guinan shook her head, shoulders jerking with a residual chuckle. "Like I said. It's new." She cast her softening eyes at Jean-Luc, firming her posture. "You love him." It wasn't a question. Jean-Luc nodded, his eyes staring at nothing.

"Yes."

"And he loves you. More accurately, he loves you in a way I would never have thought possible of a Q."

He nodded again, his eyes finding and holding Guinan's pointed gaze. Guinan offered him a smile so warm and reassuring Jean-Luc could almost forget his toiling anxiety. "The universe is full of surprises, Picard. You need to take happiness where you can find it. Life - mortal or immortal, doesn't matter - is short. If you waste time fretting about all the things that can go wrong, you risk losing what's most important to you." Guinan's hand moved to gently touch Jean-Luc's wrist. "You're not powerless. Love and hope are more powerful than you might give them credit for right now."

Jean-Luc listened with rapt attention, absorbing her meaning, letting the words flit over the broken pieces of his resolve to serve as temporary bandages. They allowed a moment of comfortable, healing silence. Guinan's fingers broke contact with Jean-Luc's wrist after giving him a firm, reassuring squeeze.

"Drink up, Picard," she said, or maybe it was an order. With Guinan it was always hard to tell. "I don't bring out the good stuff unless I intend to put a dent in it."

.

.

.

The whiskey and conversation left Jean-Luc warm and tired - undoubtedly Guinan's plan all along - and for the first time since Q left for the Continuum Jean-Luc thought he might actually achieve a proper amount of sleep. He was sore and mentally exhausted, so when Guinan ordered him to bed he couldn't think of a single reason to refute her. He retired to his quarters, considering turning in before he'd even had his tea. He wasn't sure he needed it. Usually tea and a hot shower helped alleviate the aches and pains of a hectic day, but lately those sorts of problems felt like they were a million years away.

It was impossible to ignore the changes that had taken hold of him since his merging with Q over a year ago. No significant changes else he wouldn't have allowed it, and Q would have known he wouldn't have allowed it so it would have been pointless to ever try. But they were there regardless, becoming more and more obvious day by day. Over time Jean-Luc noticed small things, things that most people would have considered insignificant or might not have noticed at all. His awareness had become a fraction more keen, he could hear things a little better, see things a little better, and lately he'd even come to notice a slight increase in his olfactory and taste sensitivity.

There were physical changes, as well. He hadn't noticed these himself, not right away, but soon it was impossible to ignore that his joints had ceased to ache in the late hours of the day. He suddenly felt he had the energy of a man twenty years younger. Months ago he'd asked Q if he'd had an active hand in these changes, if he was perhaps urging them along without permission, but Q insisted it was all subconscious fancies he couldn't control that were likely trickling into Jean-Luc's mind and body as time went on. Consider it a perk, Q said.

Jean-Luc wasn't sure if he should. He'd always been very comfortable with his mortality. His life up to this point was rich and full of more adventure than most humans could possibly hope to experience - even within the ranks of Starfleet - and his regrets were few and far between. He'd never thought his aching joints were disagreeable, or at least nothing a cup of tea and a good night's sleep couldn't rejuvenate. There was little about aging that Picard looked at with apprehension or contempt aside from the worst of it, the sad, withering tail end of life that sometimes meant the loss of memory, identity and independence. Pains and stiffness were proof of a full life. It wasn't something to fear, in Jean-Luc's opinion, it was a goal to achieve after a job well done. Even so, Jean-Luc couldn't fault the changes that were gripping him now, nor did they particularly impact his day to day life, so he did nothing to resist.

Q didn't enjoy discussing mortality. Whenever the topic arose, even passively, Q's face became stony and his eyes unfocused, his mind simmering with a dull swirl of emotion that Picard could never quite identify. Usually he changed the subject, and Jean-Luc had never seen reason to push it. Neither of them were ignorant to the insurmountable gap in their lifespans. They had accepted that reality when they'd started this, Jean-Luc knew that. Just another compromise.

He knew they would have to deal with that eventually. His hope was that 'eventually' was a possibility for their relationship, that he would see Q again soon.

As Jean-Luc changed for bed, he thanked the whiskey for helping to mute his thoughts. His brain felt foggy and warm, a sensation he usually didn't care for but now felt sorely needed. It wouldn't do any good to keep worrying. Q needed him to stay level-headed and calm, come what may, and he intended to do just that. It was the very least he could do, after all.

For the first time in days, Picard was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

.

Hours later the Captain's eyes were flying open and every recently heightened sense he possessed was sharp as a kut'luch.

At first he wasn't sure what woke him. His first instinct was to check the other side of the bed, but it was as empty as it had been the last two nights. Somehow the sight didn't deter him. Something in the air was different and whatever it was roused him violently from sleep. He tossed the sheets off and rose from the bed, his nerves absolutely vibrating. He could feel it. His mind wasn't alone anymore, there was another consciousness hesitantly weaving throughout his own, spreading out into a web of muted colors and quiet ideas, the mental equivalent of tiptoeing.

Jean-Luc left the bedroom to find Q sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, his fingertips touching to form a cage. He was staring at the floor, head slightly bowed, his overall body language writing volumes on his mood. Jean-Luc couldn't be arsed to care about that right at the moment. Q was here in front of him. Safe, alive, his powers intact. Everything else could come after.

"Q," Jean-Luc's voice was nearly a whisper, his throat tightening unexpectedly as soon as he'd opened his mouth.

There came a pronounced silence. "Sorry I'm late." Q finally answered, dolefully. He sounded tired. Jean-Luc's concern spiked.

"Don't be ridiculous. When did you come back?"

"I'm not sure. A couple of hours ago, maybe."

"Why the devil didn't you wake me?"

"I wanted to let you sleep." came Q's unconvincing answer, more apologetic than untruthful.

"Wanted to let me sleep," Jean-Luc repeated the words, punctuating them with a frustrated laugh. "Q, I haven't seen or heard from you for nearly three days.  _Three days_. And you wanted to let me sleep?"

"I know. I'm sorry." Q finally moved to lay his face in his hands. "I've been thinking."

Usually 'I've been thinking' would be followed immediately by what the thinker was thinking about, but Q went silent and still and made no attempt to continue his sentence. Any frustration Jean-Luc felt before was gone, blown away by Q's obvious despair and the sudden worry that being alive and intact wasn't all Q had to concern himself with. Jean-Luc joined Q on the couch, clasping his hands together in his lap. He would wait. However long it took for Q to talk to him, to tell him whatever had gone on at the Continuum provided he could comprehend it.

Minutes passed in silence. Colors snaked through Jean-Luc's mind, all of them forlorn and anxious in nature, the web of his consciousness sagging under the weight of it all. It didn't seem like Q was trying to withhold information. Jean-Luc had felt this before, this brand of disorienting panic that Q wasn't well-equipped to manage. In the past Q would have simply snapped away to God-knows-where whenever he found himself uncertain or chastised. He wouldn't have wanted to appear vulnerable, he would never have wanted to openly admit that he could be anything other than the infallible master of his own games, the all-knowing, all-powerful entity who could wring the cosmos in his hands if he so desired it.

Just when Jean-Luc thought perhaps Q needed some gentle urging, Q spoke, his voice gravelly. "You know exactly what I'm going to say, I think."

Jean-Luc answered with a gentle shake of his head. "Not exactly, no. I have ideas."

"You remember Yern."

"Of course. We've visited at least seven times over the last year."

"You know that's not what I mean."

Jean-Luc leaned forward, clutching his hands together a little tighter. "Our first visit when we spoke about the Continuum, I know. Are you saying this has something to do with our being together? Is the Continuum ruling to take your powers away?"

Q laughed sardonically. "Oh, they haven't decided. Nor did they care to give me any hints as to how they will decide to handle my messy indiscretion." Every word was dripping with venomous abhor, Q's eyes burning dangerously. "They simply ripped me open, decided they didn't like what they saw and sent me on my way. Didn't so much as give me an idea of when to expect their next call. Typical."

Jean-Luc steepled his hands over his mouth and breathed a slow, deep breath. "Q, I'm…" He shook his head. "I'm not sure what to say."

"On that sentiment, we are in complete concurrence."

"I'm so sorry, Q." Jean-Luc touched Q's knee, the first real touch they had shared in nearly three days. Q's entire body seemed to buckle under the strain of his anxiety, his shoulders sagging, his breath passing his lips with a slight tremble. It seemed to be more out of rage than of sadness, if the bright reds that accompanied it were anything to go by. "Tell me what I can do. Maybe I can talk to them. I know you're capable of giving me form in the Continuum, perhaps I could-"

" _There is nothing to be done_ ," Q spat angrily, standing from the couch in a swift motion that passively knocked Jean-Luc's hand away. He turned to leisurely pace toward the desk, a hand over his mouth, his other hand on his hip. There was a tight silence. Jean-Luc did not attempt to fill it. He'd never seen Q like this, not  _precisely_ like this, his chest rising and falling with short, jerky breaths, his jaw tightening and loosening with alarming frequency, like he was trying to grind his back teeth into dust. The sight of it was painful. It was too human. Jean-Luc watched Q as he paced, trying to maintain the cool-headedness of his command, adamant to be whatever sort of presence Q needed him to be.

Q's panicked patrol came to a halt in front of Picard's desk and he stared at the purple flower sitting timelessly in its crystalline vase. Jean-Luc thought he could see a hitch in Q's breathing. He wanted to hold him.

"You apologized." Q said it flatly, his voice strangely calm.

"I… did, yes. You went through something I can't even begin to comprehend, and you had to bear it all alone."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Q continued. "I gave you this flower, I pulled you into this mess. I involved you. I could have kept things just as they were, I could have found contentedness in the friendship we'd managed to salvage over the years instead of coercing you into something both of us know is impossible to maintain."

" _Coercing_  me?" Jean-Luc leaned back, his brow drawing into a tight scowl. "You must be joking. I'll forgive you because I know you're upset, but-"

"Upset!" Q rounded on him, his face hard and his eyes intensely focused on Jean-Luc's face. "I am leaps and bounds beyond upset. If I lose focus for an instant I could destroy half of this galaxy, and that would only alleviate a particle of my 'upset'!"

"That sort of talk is only going to make matters worse."

Q's jaw twitched and his wild eyes flicked away. "Oh believe me, the Continuum has done well to remind me of that."

"Who exactly are you upset with?" Jean-Luc demanded, struggling to keep his calm. "The Continuum? Yourself?" He paused, his insides wrenching into a sick knot. "Me?"

Q's expression softened, his eyes falling on Jean-Luc to offer him a look of deep regret. "No of course not."

Jean-Luc approached him, and suddenly Q seemed more receptive than before, less hostile. He reached out to circle his hands around Q's arms, holding him firmly. "Q, listen to me. I need to know what we're up against, and I can't do that unless you stop this ridiculous speculation on how differently things  _might_ have been and just tell me exactly what happened."

Q's eyes hadn't strayed from Jean-Luc's even once since he'd taken hold of his arms. "It's as I said. The Continuum felt a change in me and they summoned me back. Normally the Q are lenient in matters concerning emotions though it's generally frowned upon to let oneself become too consumed by mortal sentiment. Apparently I've gone beyond the acceptable limit. The Continuum claims my feelings for you have the potential of contaminating the others. Polluting them, if you will. Like some kind of plague." The fire returned to his eyes. "A  _plague_. How dare they compare what we have to something so filthy, so  _deranged_ -"

"Q, focus," Jean-Luc reminded, squeezing Q's arms to keep him present. "They didn't say anything about what was to be done? Are they to take action, are they going to punish you?"

Q shook his head. "I don't know. Like I said, they were divided when I left. But I could feel the desire within so many. Some want me destroyed, some think banishment to mortality would suit me better." Jean-Luc could feel the fear that came with his next few words, the shambling doubt that held the reins on Q's self-control. "Some think it would be easier and less political to destroy the object of my affections." he said, his voice hollow. "They would erase you from existance, Jean-Luc."

"I won't allow that," Jean-Luc said firmly, though he couldn't prevent a flicker of anxiety from slipping through the cracks of their joined thoughts. "They won't do any of that. It's barbaric."

Q chuckled fondly. "There he is, the fearless starship Captain whose foolhardy arrogance in the face of omnipotence caught my fancy in the first place."

"I'm deadly serious, Q. I won't let them harm you, and I certainly won't allow them to do as they please. It's out of the question."

"I agree. It is." Q's eyes were glinting like steady burning coals. All at once Jean-Luc felt Q throw walls up around his consciousness, one after another, blocking him out almost entirely. The Q he was looking at now seemed unfamiliar, or maybe too familiar, an echo of the past. Of when Q meant something else to him, something unwelcome and dangerous. The sensation made Jean-Luc's blood run cold and he stared at Q with a steadily deepening frown.

"Q, you promised you wouldn't do that."

"You haven't asked me what I was thinking about." Q said icily. Jean-Luc dropped his arms to move away - not out of fright, he just wanted to put some distance between them - but in a swift, precise motion Q grabbed Jean-Luc's arms in exactly the same way, his fingers pressing firmly into Picard's bare skin. Jean-Luc was horrified to find his fight or flight instinct surging through him, a sensation he thoroughly stomped on. He knew what was going on. Q was trying to scare him, though he wasn't yet certain to what end. "Let me tell you, shall I?"

Jean-Luc's jaw tightened. He leveled Q a look that could cut diamonds. "Go ahead."

"I wipe your memory. Clean as a whistle." Q hung the threat there, like a knife balancing on his finger. His hands found more leverage on Picard's arms. "The crew as well, of course."

"I expect if you were even remotely serious about doing something so vile you wouldn't have taken the time to tell me about it first."

Q's expression remained unchanged. Like he couldn't hear him at all. "You'll remember everything except for me. I won't alter you in any other way, you'll remain exactly as you are. All that will be missing is our time together, from Farpoint until now. I'll then return to the Continuum and plead their forgiveness, I'll show them that they have no reason to act."

"You won't do any of that, Q. Stop this and  _talk to me_."

"We  _are_ talking."

"This isn't talking. This is a pathetic, hollow threat. Nothing more."

Q's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Are you calling my bluff?"

"Yes. I've gotten rather good at it over the years."

"Human judgment is historically flawed, Picard."

" _You_  want to talk about flawed judgment?"

Q's fingernails dug into Picard's arms uncomfortably. "You don't have to make this difficult. This is the best way to fix everything."

"So you'd have it end like  _this_?" Jean-Luc demanded angrily. "Threats of violating my mind, taking what you will of me and spitting out the rest! Is this all our time together has amounted to? One bump in the road - a rather large bump, I grant you - and you slip dramatically back into your villainous role, expecting me to, what? Stand in awe of your selfless gesture? It isn't selfless, Q, it's cowardice and you know it. That's why you've shut me out. You don't want me to see how  _sick_ you are with yourself." With a furious jerk of his shoulders Jean-Luc wrenched away from Q's grip. "I won't listen to another word of this!"

Q rushed forward and reclaimed Jean-Luc's arms, but his face had twisted into something utterly panicked. " _I don't know what else to do!_ " he practically shrieked, the walls of his essence trembling with violent despair. He lowered his head, dragging long, rattling breaths through his teeth. "They could destroy you! No, no, destroy is too kind a word; they want to  _erase_ you, Jean-Luc! All you are, everything you've done, everything you  _will_ do. They would deprive the universe of your irreplaceable presence just the punish me, to punish my recklessness, and I absolutely  _can't allow that to happen!_ " It quickly became clear that Q was holding onto Jean-Luc more to stabilize himself than to keep Jean-Luc from turning away; his hands were beginning to quake and his breathing was becoming so broken that Jean-Luc feared he might pass out, if such a thing were possible.

With very minimal freedom to move his arms, Jean-Luc only managed to bend his elbows in an attempt to hold Q's forearms tightly. "Q." No reply, only more deep breathing. "Q, look at me. Please."

Slowly Q obeyed, tilting his head up to reveal large eyes no longer strong enough to pretend to be menacing. Every ounce of Jean-Luc's frustration and anger vaporized immediately. His false heart panged painfully at the sight. Some time ago Jean-Luc would have given anything to see Q vulnerable and powerless once again, but oh God not now, not when he loved him like this.

"We can't run from this. We knew this was a possibility from the very beginning, but it was a chance we were both willing to take. I'm still willing to take this chance, damn the consequences, but I  _need_ you by my side. I can't face this alone, Q."

At that, Q's throat bobbed and his mouth tightened, his lips going very thin. It nearly looked like he could cry, though Jean-Luc didn't think he would, or could, for that matter. Not in the slobbering, messy way humans were capable. He thought it might be worth considering once in awhile, however, in lieu of destroying galaxies.

In a quiet, heartrending voice, Q spoke. "They want to take you from me."

"I'm not theirs to take." Jean-Luc answered simply.

"The Continuum doesn't care."

" _I_  care."

"That isn't enough!" Q's grip loosened and Jean-Luc's strengthened. Again he looked down, away, shutting his eyes, his voice coming out tight. "All they care about is keeping their proverbial blood clean of my pollution, and if they consider  _you_ the source of my sickness-"

"Pollution, sickness," Jean-Luc repeated with clear offense.

Q glanced up, cringing. "Their beliefs, not mine."

"I don't care whose beliefs they are, I don't want to hear you reciting them back to me." Jean-Luc said warningly.

"But-"

"Q." Jean-Luc's voice cut through Q's with the fierceness of a storm. He released Q's arms and cupped the entity's face, looking him dead in the eye. He allowed his expression to soften, to reflect the earnest desperation he'd felt only hours ago when he hadn't known where Q was or what was happening to him. "I missed you terribly. I was absolutely out of my mind with worry, but you're back with me now, and right this moment I need you to know that I  _adore you_ and I'm not letting you go."

A sob escaped Q's lips, poorly disguised as a laugh. His mental walls crumbled under their own weight, thoughts and emotions cascading freely from under the rubble. Jean-Luc wasn't sure who kissed first. It hardly mattered. Q sank into him, moaning his need into Jean-Luc's mouth, their noses brushing as they pulled closer to one another. They staggered backward together into the desk, carelessly jostling everything on its surface. Q angled his hips and pressed himself against Jean-Luc with unraveled restraint, drinking in his soft gasps, his hands laying a haphazard trail over the Captain's night clothes. Jean-Luc grasped the back of Q's head, gently wedging his knee between Q's legs, fingers raking through his soft dark hair and holding tight to him. He did not want Q to slip away again.

It felt pointedly different than their usual embrace. It wasn't a precursor to sex, it wasn't the product of longing after several lengthy days missing between them. It was the simple comfort of being together, of knowing that this moment was theirs and could not be touched by anyone else. It was a strange rush of desperation that came with fear, the fear of being ripped apart, the fear that what was supposed to be eternal might end too soon. Jean-Luc wasn't in the habit of being driven by fear, he was more the sort to chase it off with a loud clap and a kick. It was because of this - and  _only_  this - that Jean-Luc pulled away, laying his hands gently on Q's chest.

"Let's sit down. I want to do whatever it is that helps you relax." he said.

"We were already doing that." Q teased gently. It felt good to hear Q teasing. "But I can take us somewhere, anywhere you like."

"I'd like to stay here, if it's all the same." Familiarity. That's what Jean-Luc needed right now, and perhaps Q needed it just as much. Fantasy would only serve to skew his senses and delay the inevitable. He wanted to feel the thrum of the  _Enterprise_ under his feet, he needed to be surrounded by the memories they had created, the definite proof of what they had together. Q didn't answer, but it was clear from his expression and the bubbling contentedness in their shared mindspace that he understood.

They needed to talk. There would be time for everything else after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O:
> 
> This was one of my favorite chapters to write tbh. I’m weirdly proud of it. I’m not sure why??? Broken!Q is one of my favorite things, maybe that’s it. :3
> 
> I’d love to say that things will get all fixed up in the next chapter but uhhhhh don’t hold your breath. (Though I might allow them a short reprieve. Very short.) The pain is just beginning. If you thought Q was upset NOW…
> 
> Thank you guys _so so_ much for reading, please leave a comment if you enjoyed!! ❤ ❤ ❤


	6. Chapter 6

Walking with Venki in a public setting was an interesting experience. To say they 'turned heads' was an understatement. Conversations died on the tongues of every passerby they came near. Some people went as far as to blatantly skid to a stop, twisting their necks as the small entourage passed by. Ambassador Nazaz didn't seem to notice, even as a small crowd of Starfleet officers blew apart like petals on the wind to allow her entourage to pass through.

It was easy to assume that rudeness was simply a cultural norm on Starbase 74, but Jean-Luc suspected it had more to do with the company he was keeping. The Venki were certainly mysterious and ethereal in appearance, but there was something about their presence that gripped the attention of everyone who laid eyes upon them and refused to let go. It wasn't strong enough to be compared to mind control or telepathy. Jean-Luc had similarly experienced that strange tug the first time he'd met them, but after several meetups over the last few days, it was no longer nearly as compelling as it once was.

"Did you sleep well, Captain?" Nazaz's voice was soft and pleasant, her long arms folded regally behind her back as they passed a group of gawking Ferengi.

"I did, thank you." Jean-Luc answered kindly as they approached the replimat. Nazaz was still watching him with unwavering, wide-eyed insistence, another oddity that Jean-Luc had grown accustomed to as the days went on. "I hope your quarters on the  _Enterprise_ will be to your liking. You will have to let me know if anything is unsatisfactory."

"We are not terribly picky, I am quite sure our arrangement will be more than adequate." Nazaz said, finally pulling her gaze away to hold her head high. "The Venki do not sleep as most other lifeforms do. One hour of intense meditation and energy regeneration is all we require."

"How interesting."

"Likewise, we do not have use of 'beds'. It is very uncomfortable for us to assume any horizontal position; our joints and skeletal structure are not well equipped for it. I will merely need a comfortable place to sit. Back support is appreciated."

"Well, I'll be sure to have an appropriate chair replicated for each of you, in that case." Jean-Luc promised with a smile.

The unusual procession stopped at a vacant table on the replimat. Nazaz gestured at her security team to position themselves on either side of the table, and then had a seat herself. She did so in a beautifully fluid motion, and her assistant stood beside her. Jean-Luc sat down himself.

"There is much about the Venki I'm afraid I don't know," Jean-Luc admitted.

"Our people are not overly forthcoming about ourselves. Historically, sharing information about our culture with other races has proven to be disastrous. You might say we've become unusually secretive."

"I understand. I hope I haven't been too inquisitive."

"Not at all, Captain," Nazaz said earnestly. "Your Federation has already done so much for us. I have never been in the habit of alienating my friends."

A waiter appeared - his gaze stuck rather blatantly on the ambassador, his eyes round and his speech mildly stuttered - to take their order. Nazaz unhesitatingly ordered strawberry pancakes topped with cream and syrup, a dish she had apparently been introduced to on the station and had taken an almost obsessive liking to. Jean-Luc opted only for a cup of tea. He'd had an early breakfast. Or an especially late dinner, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Their server scurried away.

"Speaking of friends," Nazaz steepled her fingers together on the table, her large, unblinking eyes focused on Picard, "I have not seen the Q you introduced to me in several days. I do hope he is well."

All the time Jean-Luc's suspicions about the telepathic potential of the Venki continued to grow. "Oh, he's quite alright. He had… business to attend to, but he returned just last night."

"Oh?" Nazaz's thin mouth pulled into a gentle smile. "What sort of business does a Q have? I'm afraid I still don't know much about the Q."

Jean-Luc returned the ambassador's smile as amicably as he could, and explained that humanity didn't know much about the Q, either. Admittedly, even  _he_ didn't know much about the Q, and he was possibly the only human in the universe who was sleeping with one. He didn't say the latter out loud, of course, but the fact remained and it irked him. Jean-Luc considered himself a modest man, but there was no denying the fact that he was more than likely the unwitting forerunner of Q knowledge based on sheer volume of interaction. He might even claim with confidence that he was the only man to have stepped into the essence of a Q; if anyone else had achieved that strange but rare honor, Q was not aware, but there were plenty of things that were unknown even to a Q.

Last night, he and Q had talked. And talked. And talked some more, until Jean-Luc became aware that he was about to be late meeting the ambassador on the station. They talked on the bed, Q's head rested on Picard's stomach, their hands twined together, and later they talked in the bathtub, interrupted only minimally by kissing and caressing. Jean-Luc asked Q many things once they'd both had a moment to calm down, and gave him a reassuring squeeze whenever Q fell silent.

First he asked if the Continuum made any mention of when to expect their judgement.

"It could be tomorrow, or in a hundred years. Or yesterday, last week, last millennia. Come now, you know better than to ask something like that."

"Which is exactly my point. This might not be something we have to worry about for years to come, Q." Jean-Luc's eyes followed the line of Q's tightly clenched jaw to the barely noticeable wobble in his throat. "I never thought I'd say this, but it might be more prudent to cross that bridge when we come to it."

Q looked at him as though he'd just sprouted a second head and quickly reminded him that  _no_ , that's absolutely not something a Federation starship Captain should ever say. Just as quickly, Jean-Luc reminded Q that he was full of it, and in addition, that when it came to things that were overwhelmingly cosmic in nature there was really nothing to be done but let the chips fall where they may.

"Please, no more idioms, I can't bear it!" Q begged, slipping his nose beneath the bath water.

Next, Jean-Luc asked Q something that seemed to suck all the air from the room at once.

Q's eyes were round. "Come  _with_ me?" the entity repeated numbly. "You can't be serious."

"Oh I am," Jean-Luc countered confidently, "When the Continuum calls again, I'm telling you to bring me along. That's an order." Q looked to be forming a dozen objections all at once, half of them working into the gaps between their joined thoughts, but Jean-Luc didn't give him the chance. "I told you once that we've become two halves of a whole. I meant it then and I mean it even more now, and I'll be damned if I don't get a say in what becomes of us."

"It's not that simple," Q said despairingly.

"Are you saying it's impossible?" Jean-Luc asked, his tone slightly accusatory. He remembered Q recounting the story of when he and another Q brought humans into the Continuum - not unlike his first experience in Q's consciousness, he explained it, but much less intimately and with decidedly more physical substance - and Q  _remembered_  that he remembered, which made any additional objections moot.

"No, not  _precisely_ ," Q hissed, "but you have to understand, on the pair of occasions wherein humans have gone skulking around the Continuum, it was under a very different set of circumstances. The first time, it was a field trip! A petting zoo without the petting. I brought their consciousnesses inside with vastly less palpability than I granted you during your first time inside of me. The second time, the Continuum was in utter chaos. Not a single Q noticed a team of insignificant human brains in their space because they were all too busy trying to kill each other. But what  _you're_  suggesting…" He shook his head. "They aren't interested in what you have to say, darling. With a single collective thought they could unmake you. It's too risky."

Jean-Luc squeezed Q's hand with some force. "There's been a risk from the beginning. I refuse to let you face all of this alone, Q. I want you to promise me right now, that if and when the Continuum calls on you next, you will take me with you."

The silence that permeated the room was so unnatural Jean-Luc almost assumed Q was tampering with the harmonics or the atmosphere to create a purposefully oppressive sensation. Q met his eyes and held, a silent protest, a last-ditch attempt to persuade Picard to change his mind. They both knew it wasn't happening. Q conceded - under duress, he noted for future reference - but he couldn't tuck away the enormous affection and gratitude and wild fear that bloomed potently in his essence, nor could he prevent being pulled into Jean-Luc's arms or avoid the long, gentle kiss that followed.

"Captain?" the ambassador's voice brought Jean-Luc's mind back into abrupt focus, and he realized with momentary embarrassment that he'd let his thoughts wander for several seconds too long. He knew the smile he gave her was an obvious admission of his inattention but it couldn't be helped.

"I apologize. What was it you were saying, ambassador?"

"Are you sure you slept well?" Nazaz asked him playfully. Jean-Luc was relieved at her tone.

"Well. If we're being honest, I suppose 'yes and no' is a slightly more accurate answer." Jean-Luc hoped he wouldn't have to explain Q's ability to condense hours of sleep into mere seconds, but thankfully their food and drink arrived and Nazaz seemed content to let the matter drop.

A heaping plate of pancakes topped heartily with lumps of cream, syrup and strawberries was placed before the ambassador, and Jean-Luc was presented with a steaming cup of tea. Nazaz motioned to one of her security detail - a stout male with long ropes of deep purple hair tied up in a chaotic knot - and he unhesitatingly stepped forward, produced an eating utensil from his pocket and stabbed a forkful of pancakes, popping it into his mouth. All eyes were on him as he chewed and swallowed, and another moment passed before he gave a firm nod to the ambassador and stepped back, folding his hands at his waist.

Nazaz scooped up her fork and enthusiastically cut into her meal. "Can't be too careful," she explained in a slightly embarrassed tone. "After the series of attacks we suffered on our way here, we refuse to underestimate the…  _tenacity_ of the Syak's efforts to put a stop to the peace talks."

"I thought as much, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions," Jean-Luc picked up his cup and gently blew. "Your caution is completely understandable, ambassador."

"I am relieved that you think so. Personally I find it all a tad excessive."

"Not at all. Though for future consideration, I'd like to point out that we can scan any meals you consume to check for tampering. Taste-testing wouldn't be required."

"I will keep that in mind."

Jean-Luc took a sip of his tea. It wasn't as good as the tea Q often conjured up for him, but lately nothing was. "I'm afraid I still haven't been brought up to speed on your situation with the Syak," he said, watching the ambassador thoroughly enjoy her pancakes. "For a long while the Federation showed interest in stepping in to act as a sort of mediator to help end the conflict, but I never saw the fruits of those discussions. Admiral Danvers informed me the Syak breached a ceasefire agreement to lead attacks on your warships. Until a few days ago I had no idea peace negotiations were even being considered."

"They weren't being considered, not until very recently." Nazaz said once she'd swallowed the first few bites of her meal. "There are extenuating circumstances. It is of the utmost importance for both sides that this conflict end peacefully."

"That sounds rather serious."

Nazaz resignedly set down her fork and lay her hands in her lap. "It is." She sighed deeply, which seemed to produce a strange fluttering whistle from deep in her throat. "My people are afflicted with a genetic deficiency that has unfortunately deteriorated in recent years to almost catastrophic proportions. The truth of it is, it is very difficult for us to reproduce. Lately, it has become nearly impossible to safely do so."

"I had no idea." Jean-Luc rarely felt the need to state the obvious, but he wasn't sure what else to offer.

"Our doctors have never been able to isolate the source of the problem. It is a riddle that has plagued my people for decades, and until recently, we thought we were alone in our suffering." Nazaz motioned to one of her detail, and he produced a data pad from his sleeve, handing it to her. She briefly tapped on it and extended it for Picard to take. "Several months ago, a Syak representative established contact with our government. Their scientists had become aware of our deficiency and claimed their race was afflicted with the same genetic defect. Identical to our own in every way."

Jean-Luc frowned down at the data pad, his eyes tracing over a pair of identical molecular patterns and medical information pulled up on the screen. "I've never seen anything like it," he admitted. "As you said, they're exactly the same down to the last genome. Do your scientists have any explanation? Or perhaps, do the Syak know anything?"

"There was a… conference. The first non-violent gathering between our species in more than two-hundred years. The greatest minds from both of our species came together to try and make sense of it. They were unable to find a source, a cure or even a medical explanation. However, they did find a… a  _solution_."

Jean-Luc handed back the pad after having consumed all the information from it that his medically ignorant mind could comprehend. "And I take it this solution is controversial in nature."

The ambassador exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "As it turns out, the physiology between our two species is highly compatible for reproduction. Latent genes in the Syak negate our own deficiency, and vice versa. I'm sure you can hazard a guess as to how this might have been discovered."

"I hear physiology is lonely work."

"I suppose it is."

Jean-Luc took a deep drink of his tea. "I'm beginning to understand why these peace talks are so paramount."

The ambassador swiped a long finger over the fluffy cream on her pancakes and stuck her finger in her mouth. "I thought you might." she mumbled.

"If the Syak know how imperative the situation is, why did they openly attack your ship?" Jean-Luc asked.

"The Syak Empire approves of the talks. They agree that the survival of their own race is worth a few compromises, and my government wants more than anything to end this conflict and continue our species. However, as there often is, there is a sect of Syak traditionalists who are not content with our solution. They are adamant to keep Venki DNA from blemishing their own, even if it costs them their lives." She scoffed. "Idiots, the lot of them."

Jean-Luc smiled apologetically. "Well. Regardless of Starfleet's lukewarm role in all this, I can assure you that we're very much involved now. I promise that I will do everything in my power to ensure these negotiations go smoothly."

"I know you will, Captain, and I am eternally grateful for your assistance."

They ate and drank for a time companioned only by comfortable conversation that didn't involve war or politics. Jean-Luc spoke idly about the  _Enterprise-E_ and her crew complement and structure, and Nazaz gushed about Earth's culinary prowess, all of the dishes she had sampled, all of the foods she'd heard about but hadn't the chance to try yet. Picard promised Nazaz all the Earth dishes she could handle during her stay on the ship, and made mention of drinks as well, wines and tea. At the suggestion, Nazaz immediately ordered a peach tea to sample. The smell of it made her nostrils flare but once she sipped it she swore she'd never known any drink to taste so sublime. Venki cuisine must be particularly bland, Picard thought.

By now, Jean-Luc had grown oblivious to the blatant stares and wide-eyed awe of the passersby at the replimat. He could easily see how the Venki could become numb to the attention; when it was constant and unrelenting it became nothing more than background. This was precisely the reason Jean-Luc felt something was very wrong. The eyes he'd been feeling on them for the better part of an hour suddenly felt meticulous and scorching. Dangerous. Jean-Luc knew danger, he considered himself intimately acquainted with the uniquely sick, sinking feeling it accompanied, the chill that flew up his spine even in a warm room. He was feeling all of that and then some, and finally he pulled his gaze away from the ambassador to look around them, searching for the source of his sudden unease.

Among the throngs of people passing by the replimat Jean-Luc's eyes quickly and easily found the stray sheep, the one person not bending their neck to stare at the Venki in starry-eyed interest. A tall, slim figure in a horribly conspicuous cloak stood next to a support beam on the central floor, not eight meters from their table, face obscured by his hood but his gaze unmistakably trained on them. As soon as they locked eyes, the figure stepped away from the beam and began approaching them - a little too quickly. Jean-Luc clenched his jaw and shot up from his chair, tapping his badge.

"Security to the Replimat, central core." He motioned sharply to the ambassador's security, his eyes not straying from their rapidly approaching guest. "Ambassador, get somewhere safe." In his peripheral he could see Nazaz spring to her feet just as her small security team circled around the table, weapons in hand. Jean-Luc lamented his decision not to bring along a phaser.

The ambassador's security team took position and Jean-Luc grudgingly stepped behind them. Two dozen meters from them, emerging from a turbolift, Picard spotted starfleet security jogging their way but knew they wouldn't arrive in time. It didn't matter. It was only one man against four armed Venki. Jean-Luc didn't see much cause for concern.

Until.

The Venki raised their weapons. The cloaked stranger stopped, hood blown back, chest puffing. Jean-Luc had never seen a Syak in the flesh before. Their skin was pale and mildly translucent, twisting blue veins webbing over their hardened features. He had no hair to speak of - by design or the product of genetics Picard couldn't be sure - and the back of his head rose up in a sweeping point, like a teardrop.

The Venki held their ground and demanded surrender. The Syak raised his hands above his head but his eyes were oddly wild. The sight of it churned Jean-Luc's stomach fiercely. Something was wrong.

"It's over," Jean-Luc stepped up next to the line of security, speaking calmly and as diplomatically as he was able. "Don't do anything you'll regret."

The Syak's pupils were like pinpricks in a sea of fierce yellow. He stared at Picard, good and long, shifting his gaze to the ambassador stationed safely behind her team. The sound of starfleet boots pounding on the floor from behind seemed to help their guest make up his mind. The Syak plunged his hand into his cloak. He gnashed his teeth together.

" _For the purity of Syak-Yal!_ "

One of the Venki fired on him, but it was too late. As his body crumpled to the floor there was a loud warning beep followed by a click, two sounds Jean-Luc rarely enjoyed hearing in succession.

Picard turned and tackled Nazaz to the ground as the bomb detonated. The blast was massive, from the sound alone Jean-Luc was certain it would take a fair chunk of the station with it. As they were consumed by flames and scorching heat, Jean-Luc realized that dying heroically in the line of duty didn't carry the same note of pensive acceptance that it once did.

In the microseconds that followed, a hefty sum of thoughts flew through his mind, more than he would have considered possible in such a short span. Jean-Luc never assumed your life could, indeed, flash before your eyes, but suddenly a lifetime's worth of memories were playing like a choppy, episodic holomovie he couldn't look away from. He was buying vegetables with his mother and Robert in the market, he was failing his first Starfleet entrance exam, he was being assigned to the  _Stargazer_ , he was bringing Jack Crusher's body to his grieving family, he was being court-martialed, he was taking command of the  _USS Enterprise-D_. He was meeting Q. He was falling in love. He was the happiest he'd ever been in his life.

When the explosion engulfed him in its fiery haze, all he could do was think of how furious Q was going to be with him for being so careless with his fragile, short little human life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /painstakingly builds a small brick structure just to hide behind it


	7. Chapter 7

Pretending to be busy in a social setting was a unique challenge for an omnipotent entity. There were really only three options when operating under the limitations of bipedal mortality; eating, working or playing. Q didn't typically eat or drink so that knocked him down to two. There wasn't much room for playing in Ten Forward, not with Guinan so frighteningly close-by, so working was all he was left with. It was the popular choice for most humans who chose to bide time waiting for their companions to join them for a drink, nose buried in a PADD, looking oh-so enthralled as they poured through boring reports and mission briefings and whatever else was considered mandatory Starfleet reading. Q knew better. People sitting in Ten Forward weren't  _really_ working - except for the Vulcans, of course - they were just avoiding being seen doing nothing. Humans had a peculiar distaste for being idle in public.

Q could certainly understand not wanting to be alone with one's thoughts, but the purpose of looking busy when you could just as easily do nothing at all alluded him.

It seemed vain but Q had no qualms with vanity, and Data was late. When in Rome. Q snapped a PADD into his hand and crossed a leg over his knee, frowning at the screen. Since he had no work to do, he summoned a live feed of Jean-Luc to see what he was getting up to. Creepy, perhaps, but omnipotence rarely gave way for concern about such things. He always had an eye on Picard in some form or another. It was an unspoken aspect of their relationship that had been there since Farpoint, much to the Continuum's chagrin.

 _Ugh_ , the Continuum. There was much to be said about distracting one from one's thoughts after all.

Picard appeared to be walking along the lower-level thoroughfare with Ambassador Nazaz. Well, no surprises there. Jean-Luc made plans to meet the ambassador for lunch to discuss- Well, whatever they needed to discuss. Politics, probably. Things Q had no real interest in, so here he was, waiting on Data to meet him for whatever it was  _they_ usually sat around discussing. Their mutual perplexity of humanity, mostly. The mathematics of the physical universe, sometimes. Data's cat Spot, disturbing often. Occasional gossip and everything in-between. And he was late! Data was never late, not even when his silly emotion chip was activated.

As he watched Jean-Luc stroll toward the replimat with the ambassador while waiting on his android companion to join him for lunch, it occurred to Q just how utterly bizarre his life had become. Maybe the Continuum had a point, not that he cared to admit it.

"Q," Data appeared at Q's side, his brows raised in a preemptive apology. "I hope you have not been waiting for too long. With no way to contact you, I was unable to warn you of my tardiness."

Another familiar figure jogged up behind Data, slightly out of breath, metallic silver eyes shining under the artificial lights. "It was my fault, really." Geordi explained between huffs. "I snagged Data at the last minute to help me tweak the propulsion systems and it took a little longer than I thought it would."

Over the last four months or so, Geordi often joined in on their lunches. Initially Q wasn't wild about the addition and thought to put a stop to it, but he soon found that Geordi usually had no trouble keeping up with their dialogue and sometimes even added something insightful that Q hadn't previously assumed he was capable of. He also couldn't deny the appeal in associating with another couple who so closely paralleled his own relationship with Picard. It was worth observing, certainly.

Q rolled his eyes and set his datapad aside. "Keeping a God waiting is bad luck, you know." he said sullenly as Data and Georgi stole seats at the table.

"A  _God_ now huh," Geordi chuckled, "Do Gods  _usually_ have lunch with androids and humans?"

"Probably not, and I'm beginning to see why," Q quipped crossly.

Data folded his hands and rested them on the table. "I hope I have not offended you," he said earnestly.

"Oh you could never," Q replied coolly, "I've already decided to blame Geordi."

"Easy!" Geordi exclaimed indignantly.

"Are you concerned about Captain Picard's lunch with the ambassador?" Data asked, ignoring his boyfriend's outrage. His yellow eyes flicked to the datapad on the table, still with it's ongoing video stream of Jean-Luc and Nazaz chatting across a table similar to their own as a frazzled waiter took down their orders.

"No," Q said lazily, snapping the PADD away, "just spying."

"I should probably be surprised about that," Geordi muttered, leaning his chin in his hand.

"I was not aware you kept such a close watch on the Captain," Data said, his tone innocently lacking in suspicion.

Q shrugged. "I keep a close watch on a great many things, but none so alluring as Jean-Luc Picard. I mean,  _look_ at this!" He tapped on the table's surface with his knuckles and another picture of the same scene appeared in the center. "He's ridiculously fun to watch, isn't he?"

Geordi rested his face in his hands. "Q, that's just creepy."

"What!" Q dismissed the image with a wave of his hand. "Are you saying if you had the means to see Data whenever you wanted, no matter where in the universe he was, you wouldn't take total advantage of it?"

"Of course not!" Geordi laughed in horror, leveling Q an unbelieving stare, "Everyone's entitled to a certain amount of privacy, you omnipotent stalker. Does the Captain  _know_ you peep in on him whenever you feel like it?"

"Oh he's  _always_ known," Q scoffed.

Geordi turned to Data for help. "Tell him, Data. I mean, you wouldn't do something that invasive, right? It's creepy, right?"

Data was frowning at the table with a inscrutable expression. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he spoke. "I certainly do not condone invading the privacy of others, but I cannot deny that there may be certain advantages to such an ability that may be in the observee's best interest."

Geordi recoiled as if he'd been struck. "Oh  _come on_ , Data!"

"Let the man finish!" Q demanded importantly.

"It is an intriguing idea, Geordi, for a variety of reasons. For example, if we were to lose communication with each other during a mission gone awry, I would easily be able to locate you and organize a rescue operation if you were in need of one. Or on the slightly more unpleasant spectrum, if you were to be taken captive by a menacing person or persons, this admittedly invasive ability might save your life. The possible invasion of your privacy is a small price to pay for your safety."

Geordi groaned. "I can't believe I  _choose_ to attend these lunches with you two."

Q grinned. "Stop bellyaching and order up, La Forge. What'll it be?" He finger-gunned at three points on the table in front of Geordi, and in each spot a different delicious looking drink sprang up, trimmed with all manners of over-the-top decoration. Geordi leveled Q a stony look, sighed, and then reached out to choose a creamy orange drink in a tall glass with an overabundance of colorful umbrellas. The rejected glasses blinked away.

"Thanks," Geordi chuckled, "but you know, I wouldn't break a sweat getting a drink from the bar."

"Refusing a gift from a God is  _also_ bad luck," Q pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest.

Geordi sipped his drink, tried and failed to suppress a little noise of inspiration, and shot Q an approving look. "Well, far be it for me to look a gift-Q in the mouth."

Data frowned. "Geordi, I believe the expression you meant to use was 'look a gift- _horse_  in the mouth'."

"Oh, darling, never change," Q crooned.

A familiar presence slid stealthily into place just behind Q's left shoulder, accompanied by the usual prickly sensation that crawled through Q's essence whenever an El-Aurian came too near. El-Aurian's weren't special, really, it was simply the unfortunate result of interacting with a species that harbored latent awareness of the space-time continuum. It was something like magnets repelling each other.

"May I remind you gentlemen," Guinan began, almost causing Geordi to spit out his drink in surprise, "there's not much of a point coming to Ten Forward if you bring your own replicator."

Q rolled his eyes. "Oh please," he moaned, "comparing mighty Q powers to a primitive little replicator? That's in poor taste, even for you."

"I wasn't aware 'mighty Q powers' included bartending."

"He is quite proficient at it," Data offered unhelpfully.

"I could have you thrown out for loitering," Guinan suggested airily, her eyes laser-focused on Q.

Data's face suddenly betrayed trace amounts of concern. "It was not our intention to take advantage of your establishment. If you would prefer I order something at the bar-"

"Relax, Data," Guinan smiled, pulling up a chair, "no one's getting thrown out today, so long as Q remembers to behave himself."

"I'm always on my best behavior, just ask Jean-Luc!"

"No need. He speaks highly of you lately."

"Is that so?" The little thrill of contentedness that surged through Q's center manifested in the physical world as a three-tier tray of exotic bakes and desserts positioned in the center of the table and a tall glass of El-Aurian brandy for Guinan. "Well, my Jean-Luc is a  _very_ perceptive man, after all."

Guinan eyed her brandy with a long-suffering sigh before taking an experimental sip. Her brow raised, impressed. "Alright, you can stay."

Geordi peeked around the colossal dessert tray. "But maybe you could  _shorten_ your generosity? You know, before this thing needs planning permission or something?"

"Oh if you  _insist_."

The three-tiers became a single plate of sweet bakes. Geordi gratefully took one of the tiny cakes, offering another to Data. The android sharply cocked his head to activate his emotion chip so he might enjoy the treat he was about to introduce to his nutrient processing system.

"To be painfully honest, Q, I'm relieved to see you." Guinan said matter-of-factly as Data and Geordi munched on cake. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd been hiding yourself the last few days."

Of all people to bring attention to his absence from the ship, Guinan was the absolute last person Q would have expected. He wasn't doltish enough to believe that she cared enough - or hated him enough, for that matter - to notice three measly days without his magnanimous presence, which could only mean that she and Picard had spoken about it. Despite his unsavory past experiences with Guinan, he knew well enough how deeply Jean-Luc cared for her and trusted her guidance. He had no qualms with that, not anymore. It was the prospect that Jean-Luc had been so distressed as to come to Guinan in the first place that wrenched his essence into a sickening knot.

Q was reminded of the virulent things he'd said to Jean-Luc the night before, the horrible things he'd threatened. He firmly stifled his reemerging anxiety and panic, but he worried Guinan had already seen it.

"Continuum business. Nothing any of you could comprehend." he said dismissively. Guinan stared at him for a good long moment but seemed content to let the matter rest.

"Isn't that something, though?" Geordi piped up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "You used to only pop up a few times a year, but now we're pretty much used to seeing you almost every day. When the hell did that happen?"

"One year, one week, two days, seven hours, twenty minutes and thirty-eight seconds ago," Data chirped helpfully, going for a second piece of cake with a pleased expression on his pale features. Geordi pat him affectionately on the shoulder.

"Thanks buddy, but that wasn't  _exactly_ what I meant."

The table broke into idle chatter for several minutes. At some point Guinan downed her drink and excused herself - not so much as a wobble in her gait, Q was disappointed to note - and it was when Data was talking about an upcoming violin recital he was planning for the crew that Q felt it; a cold, snaking obtrusion in the center of his essence, the deepest part of him that was most closely tethered to Jean-Luc Picard. A million things hit him all at once, so many that Q could barely tell each of them apart, his consciousness sagging under the weight of it all. Something was terribly wrong. Usually Q couldn't be bothered to worry about a small quake in space-time unless he had direct orders from the Continuum to do something about it, but this tremor was exclusively connected to Jean-Luc, and it shook the very core of him.

And then it was severed. His connection to Jean-Luc simply snuffed out. Q's consciousness fractured and a surge of something indescribably agonizing flooded into the cracks like acid on an open wound. Picard's life had ended, would end, was currently ending. One moment he was there and the next he was not. Q went numb.

"Hey, Q, you okay?" Geordi's voice sounded distant and faraway. Q's anguish blotted out the insignificant noises around him, dispelling them, closing the emptiness so tightly inside himself that his consciousness began to implode.

His anguish took a sudden backseat when he remembered that nothing need happen in this universe if he did not wish it.

Q stopped the flow of the universe down to the molecular level. He dissolved his physical body and wound back the cosmic clock by mere moments. A moment was all it would take, it was all he needed. His awareness slid to the source of the flux, the point where Jean-Luc's consciousness intersected with his own once again, filling the space that had seconds ago been left bare. Q could have cried if he'd had a physical body that would allow it. He was no longer in despair. He was all-powerful, he could bend the universe to his whim, he could save Jean-Luc Picard.

Time remained frozen, and it would remain so until Q could determine exactly what happened so that he could respond accordingly. He appeared on the commercial floor of Starbase 74 in his human form, beside the table where Jean-Luc had been taking tea with the ambassador. The scene that greeted him told the story in great detail. A line of Venki security guards stood in front of the ambassador, weapons drawn on a Syak with his arms raised skyward but his expression suggesting that he never intended to leave the starbase in one piece. Q sniffed the air. A crude but effective explosive was concealed under his cloak, strapped to his chest. Q's back teeth ground into each other as he stared at the common terrorist, several million ideas of how to end his miserable life swimming through his consciousness. He put all of them on hold. There was something far more important to attend to first.

Q walked back to the table, stepping in front of Jean-Luc's frozen form stationed beside the Venki. Q could tell by the tightness of his jaw and the fierceness of his eyes that he'd been trying to reason with the creature, trying to find a diplomatic solution to the potentially violent situation. Q's essence rolled with fury. He was unbelieving that such a meaningless act of terrorism could end the life of someone he held so dear. But it hadn't, of course, because Q would never allow that. Not now, not ever.

Oh, dear.

Jean-Luc's mortality was a subject Q had always danced around but never committed to dealing with. Even Jean-Luc avoided the subject, whether out of consideration for Q or because he found it a pointless subject to discuss, Q was never certain. What was there to say? Neither of them were ignorant to what made them different. Jean-Luc was mortal, Q was not. It was cruel in its simplicity.

Then again, mortality wasn't really the issue, and Q suspected neither of them were ignorant to that, either. It was Q's inability to allow Jean-Luc to die.

They'd never spoken of it, but Q suspected Jean-Luc knew, on some level. Q was fairly sure he'd made his position clear years ago when Jean-Luc neared died on that operating table with a hole in his heart. Q hadn't wanted to address it. He'd always worried the moment the idea was confirmed - when it ceased to be nothing more than a vague suspicion - Jean-Luc would put an end to it. As far as Q was concerned, the damage was already done. If he hadn't intervened, Jean-Luc would have died on that table, surrounded by his crew. No, he would have died long before that, on a Borg cube. Even before Q realized the extent of his feelings he hadn't been willing to let this one seemingly insignificant life slip away.

Q gently touched Jean-Luc's face with the pads of his fingers.

If the Continuum ruled against him, none of this would even matter. He could freeze the universe and unmake any tragedy but he couldn't stand against the power of his united kind. Nothing was right. The violent thoughts Q had tucked away shot to the surface again.

He turned his dark eyes on the terrorist and vehemently snapped his fingers. A dense distortion formed around the Syak, encasing him in an egg-shaped pocket of resumed time. His own personal space-time tombstone. Not realizing anything had changed, the Syak set off the explosive, his face warping in perplexity in the fleeting 1.4 seconds between the calm and the blast, when he realized the rest of the universe was no longer flowing along with him. The blast engulfed him, incinerating him instantly within his little bubble, his screams of pain coming too late and ending too soon. Q watched on, disappointed. This man didn't deserve a quick death. He deserved agony, unending and severe, and possibly the only thing preventing Q from simply turning back the clock and delivering the appropriate torment was the thought of Jean-Luc's resolute disapproval of something so barbaric.

The bubble was gone. The Syak's ashes floated to the floor in thick, smudging stripes amidst the rest of his sparse remains. Q moved out of the physical world and allowed time to resume as normal.

A few people screamed. Starfleet security continued toward the source of the commotion although the threat had been dealt with, clearly confused about what they had been called in to stop. The Venki lowered their weapons and gestured to the pile of ash and charred scraps of cloth in disbelief.

Jean-Luc's eyes were secured to the spot where the Syak once stood. For a moment he looked vaguely unsteady on his feet, a gentle sway in his posture that he quickly stabilized before it could draw attention, not that anyone was looking anywhere but where the Syak's blackened remains spread over the floor. He looked down at his feet, checking himself over as if something were amiss. Q watched him, his concern mounting. Something was wrong. More accurately, Picard  _noticed_ something was wrong, which was wrong in of itself.

The additional security arrived and Picard went to meet them. Admiral Danvers showed up moments later full of questions and demanding answers; he wasn't going to find any. None of them would be able to determine exactly what happened, no matter how hard they searched. The team created a perimeter, ushering away the curious onlookers, and Picard escorted the ambassador and her detail to a safer location on the starbase. There was talk of moving Nazaz and her team to the  _Enterprise_ ahead of schedule, to increase security before their maintenance was finished.

Q watched the scene play out for close to two hours before Jean-Luc was given a window of time to himself. After a short meeting with Danvers and the base commander, Jean-Luc slipped into a vacant meeting room and called for Q.  _Urgently_. The sound of Jean-Luc's voice flowing into his mind was practically euphoric, regardless of the agitated fringe that accompanied it.

Q appeared just behind Picard, trying his hardest not to immediately pull him into a fierce embrace to feel the warmth on his skin, the rhythm of his pulse, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Proof of his life. He would have just gone and done it if not for how incriminating such an action might appear in light of current events.

"You rang, darling?" Q chimed instead, straining to keep his emotions from spilling over into Jean-Luc's mind like a flood. Picard turned on him, his eyes hard and his lips thin.

"Q." For a moment - just a moment - Jean-Luc seemed lost for words. His own emotions were heightened from the flurry of events, muddled and firing sharp intentions in an array of colors in the sea of their shared thoughts. "Is that all you have to say?" Jean-Luc finally asked, his voice quivering slightly with either anger or despair Q couldn't be sure. "After all of that? You've been watching since it happened. Since you- since you  _changed_ things, I know you have."

Q stared at Jean-Luc with wide eyes and a slightly slackened jaw, his relief and joy deflating into grim realization. He stepped closer, touching Jean-Luc's arm, grateful that Jean-Luc did not flinch away from him. "I had no idea… Jean-Luc, were you  _aware_ while I was…?"

"While you were what?" Jean-Luc demanded in a soft voice, "While you were altering the timeline?"

Q nodded weakly, forcing a painful lump down his fragile human throat. "It shouldn't be possible for you to remember."

"Well it is,  _believe_ me." Jean-Luc turned and stepped away, putting deliberate distance between them, which was never a good sign, not since the days when Q would have marked such a move as a victory. Picard was silent for a time, his thoughts in disarray, and now Q knew exactly why. He was wrestling with two different outcomes to the same event. It wasn't something the human brain was well-equipped to deal with, no matter how extraordinary that human was.

Picard blew a sigh through his lips, leaning his hands on the oblong staff table in the center of the room. "The bomb went off. Everyone was killed.  _I_  was killed. I felt my body engulfed by the fire, I felt the shrapnel pierce my skin." His breathing got shakier. Q's feet seemed rooted to the floor. He'd never seen his Jean-Luc like this, so fragile and distraught, and still Jean-Luc was summoning every ounce of his control to keep himself firmly in check. "And then it all came back. I pulled out of myself - what was  _left_ of myself - and my place in the universe resumed. The bomb did not go off. I was alive, and I could feel you near. And now, I…." Jean-Luc's hands curled into fists against the table's mirrored surface. "I can't determine what is  _real_."

The roots binding Q to the floor dissolved and he broke free of the floor. Seeing his lover in distress was too much to bear, and he no longer cared if he would be pushed away or reprimanded; Q approached with haste, and to his continued surprise Jean-Luc turned when he heard him coming, his expression uncharacteristically lost. Q pulled him into a tight embrace, breathing deeply into the bend of Jean-Luc's neck, sampling that wonderful pulse. Jean-Luc wrapped his arms around Q, his fingers tightly grasping the back of his uniform, his face stuffed into Q's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Q murmured against Jean-Luc's neck. "I'm so sorry."

Jean-Luc chuckled weakly. "You saved the lives of several dozen civilians and officers. You prevented an all-out war between the Venki and the Syak, which would have likely lead to the extinction of both races. I can't imagine why you're apologizing."

"For creating this paradox in your mind." Q said gently. "The only life I was concerned with was yours. I had no idea you would be aware of the divergence. I never took into account our new intimacy, I never expected our bond could have this sort of effect on you."

Jean-Luc inhaled deeply through his nose, letting it out slow. "If I hadn't been aware of it, would you have told me?" he asked.

Q pressed a kiss to Jean-Luc's temple, increasing his hold. "I don't know. I didn't usually, with the exception of your heart attack several years ago. Things are different now, I'll admit. I strive to be honest with you. You  _so_ love your human honesty."

"So all of this - this is real, correct?" Jean-Luc asked in a small voice that barely befit him.

The question being asked wasn't reaching for a philosophical answer involving the specifics of the multiverse or a reminder that everything is real in one way or another. Q knew that. Reassurance was all that was needed, and Q was very willing to provide anything and everything Jean-Luc needed in this moment.

"This is very real." Q promised.

"This is real." Jean-Luc repeated the words as if trying to affirm it, to make himself believe it. "This is real, and I'm alive." He stole a deep breath that seemed to summon strength back into his limbs, the confusion in his mind dissipating. How quickly his Captain could pull himself together, even after having experienced his own death only hours ago.

After a time, he spoke, his voice clear and almost stern. "Q."

"Mm."

"You have no intention of allowing me to die, do you?"

They'd been avoiding the subject for so long, Q had almost let himself believe he would never have to concern himself with it. The Q were not above denial, certainly, but even now as Jean-Luc asked him, Q wished he'd prepared a satisfactory answer if the need ever arose. Instead, all he was left with was the unvarnished truth.

"No." Q said softly.

Nothing more was said for a time. Jean-Luc didn't move away or release his hold on Q. They held each other in quiet companionship, falling into the gentle thrum of each other's slow, deep breathing. Several minutes went by before Jean-Luc ended the moment, placing his hands on Q's chest to push them apart.

"I can't accept that." Jean-Luc said firmly.

"Accept what?" Q asked, though he knew perfectly well what.

"You're forcing immortality on me, Q. I can't accept it."

"I never asked you to."

"That's right, you didn't." Jean-Luc squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I have no interest in immortality. What makes the human experience meaningful is knowing that eventually, it will end. I haven't paid mind to the physical changes because I accepted that our relationship would have unpredictable effects on  _both_ of us. But anything  _beyond_ that... I don't know."

"Are you saying you would rather have died today?" There was an edge to Q's voice, but he was straining to keep a calm disposition. This was something he absolutely refused to move on. "'Captain Jean-Luc Picard, decorated officer and beloved human diplomat, killed in a petty terrorist attack on Starbase 74, taken long before his time'."

"Who are you to determine when my time is?" Jean-Luc shot back.

"You didn't answer my question." Q crossed his arms, tilting his head to eye his lover with a penetrating gaze.

Jean-Luc rubbed his forehead and turned away from those blazing eyes, groaning in frustration. "I don't have a simple answer."

"This isn't exactly a simple subject."

"Of course I don't want to die, Q. Not now, not when I still feel I have so much more to do. But I can't have you stepping in every time the universe lines up in a way that doesn't suit me, either. What sort of Captain will I be to my crew? How can I remain objective when I know nothing can harm me, that if I get shot in the line of duty I'll simply be pulled back into a time when that phaser never went off? How can I send my crew on potentially dangerous missions knowing I may be putting their lives in jeopardy when I can no longer do the same?"

"If it makes it easier, I can ensure the safety of your crew as well."

"Dammit, Q, that's not the point!" Jean-Luc exclaimed. "You may as well grant immortality to every creature in the quadrant!"

"This isn't up for debate." Q said seriously. "You thanked me for saving you, once. You even told Riker you appreciated what I'd done, what I'd shown you."

"Extending a helping hand once or twice isn't the issue here. We're talking about using your powers to keep me encased in an impenetrable box of immortality and potentially upheaving the natural order of my life."

Q felt anger flush his face and he turned, pacing the room, allowing himself a moment to breathe. "Fine." he finally said, staring intently at the wall, "Tell me, Jean-Luc. Were our roles reversed and you had the power to save my life at your fingertips, are you saying you would let me die rather than prevent my death? That you would watch my life end when saving me would be as easy as wishing it weren't so?"

The silence that permeated the room was sharp and ringing, as though Q's words were a hard slap across the face. Jean-Luc's shoulders were tense and his jaw ground in distress. He didn't answer out loud but he couldn't hide his chaotic thoughts which all screamed in unison  _no, of course I wouldn't!_

"Precisely." Q answered coolly. "This isn't some power-play, Jean-Luc, it isn't some game I've invented to torment you or control you. Have you given any thought to how I feel? To how your death would affect me?"

"Don't you dare turn this into some lovelorn guilt trip," Picard grumbled, "You have always been aware of my mortality, Q, just as I have had to accept your omnipotence. You can't start crying foul-play now, after all this time."

"I don't know if you've noticed this, but I have  _never_ accepted your mortality, Picard." Q pointed out. "You're asking me to look the other way if your life is in peril,  _me_ , an entity who can unmake any disaster with only a thought. Can you really expect me to do that?" Jean-Luc stood stock-still, his expression melting into something apologetic. " _Can you_?" Q demanded hotly, his eyes ablaze.

Jean-Luc turned away, anchoring his hands on his hips and glaring down at the carpet as though he meant to unravel it with his eyes alone. Q watched him closely, his center twisting into an aching knot. How he wished there weren't these differences between them, these conflicting silences, the rare but painful moments where the gap between them seemed insurmountable.

"You're angry with me." Q surmised softly.

"No, I am not." Jean-Luc said firmly. "I'm… frustrated. With the situation, not you."

"I  _am_ the situation."

"Don't give yourself so much credit." Jean-Luc finally looked up at Q, locking eyes with him, and his expression softened into something more tired and subdued. Before Q could think up some witty retort Jean-Luc was across the room, holding Q's face in his hands, kissing him gently on the lips. Q kissed him back gratefully, but he couldn't help feeling that Picard was trying to placate him.

"I need some time to process all of this." Jean-Luc said gently when they pulled apart. "There are still things to be done before I can look forward to a moment of quiet contemplation, but I want to talk more with you about this later. You won't be staying away, will you?"

"No of course not," Q murmured with a sigh, "so long as you promise you're not angry with me."

"You should be able to find that out for yourself easily enough," Picard pointed out.

Q summoned a half-hearted smile. "Later, then. I'll leave you to the ambassador. Unless you'd like me to stick around and help with damage control."

Jean-Luc grinned and dropped his gaze. "No, I believe you've done quite enough. Literally."

"Are you going to…  _credit_ me in your next report?"

Jean-Luc sighed. "I haven't decided yet."

"Do you think Danvers will give me a medal? Or will he be making a call to the Department of Temporal Investigations?"

"Good lord, I'd rather not think about that just now." Jean-Luc kissed Q again, running his hands over the entity's shoulders and down his arms. "Right. Later tonight we can more thoroughly discuss this, come to some sort of conclusion. A compromise, perhaps. Something." He paused, giving Q's wrist a weak squeeze before dropping his arms to his sides. "I'll see you tonight. "

The word never sounded so hollow. Picard wasn't angry with him, Q knew that much to be true, but it wasn't his anger Q was wary of. It was his resolution, his unwillingness to associate his own existence with something that had no conclusion. Q worried that neither of them would bend. For him, the idea of allowing Jean-Luc's life to come to an end was non-negotiable. But his lover was just as stubborn, perhaps more so. A stalemate was inevitable.

How far was he willing to go to ensure Jean-Luc never met his demise? Would he risk their  _relationship_ on it? Q couldn't let Picard die, but he also couldn't fathom separating from him. It was also quite possible that the Continuum would make up his mind for him. Q usually scoffed at paradoxes, but he was absolutely not laughing now.

Jean-Luc went to meet Danvers on the central core, where a security team was waiting to help them escort the ambassador and her detail to the  _Enterprise_. Q watched the procession until they were safely aboard before snapping himself elsewhere, slipping into an incorporeal form that stung him like frayed wire, fending off the impending panic that had begun to weave through his essence like poison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See??? You can trust me!! I will Fix Most Things. Nevermind that all this opened an entirely NEW can of Q anxiety, shhh shut up. Also, I'd say we're about halfway through this thing! I warned you it was going to be long lol
> 
> GUINAN. So um, in ‘Generations’, apparently the original script had an explanation for Guinan’s time-space awareness. (like in Yesterday’s Enterprise) I guess the plan was to be that her ‘echo’ in the Nexus gave her that awareness, not her species. But since it never made it into the movie and we know so little about El-Aurian as a people, I’d like to think that Data’s ‘perhaps her species has a perception that goes beyond linear time’ speculation is as close to canon as it gets
> 
> Did I have to explain all that??? Probably NOT but you know what?? I’ve been writing this story since FEBRUARY and I need a NAP


	8. Chapter 8

La Barre was beautiful in May. The vineyards were lush and flowering, the fruit just beginning to form as tiny green buds growing in attractive clusters. They wouldn't see yield for another handful of months, but in Q's opinion, flowers were more aesthetically pleasing than squishy maroon bulbs. Or maybe it was the fresh scent that carried on the wind he preferred, sweet and mild, opposed to the overpowering tangy robustness that followed in September.

A colorful  _spizaetus ornatus_  - an ornate hawk-eagle - sat perched on a high branch overlooking the vineyards, its sharp eyes trained on a pair of young boys playing among the rows of white-flowering vines. Both of them were mud-streaked and out of breath, winding through the growing plants, small arms reaching through the bushes to shove each other before retreating again in a peal of breathy giggles. The hawk ruffled its feathers, swiveling its head to peck at its long primary wing feathers.

"Ouch! Hey!"

The hawk's head snapped forward, its keen eyes again seeking out the children. The smaller of the two was on the ground, knees and elbows in the dirt, slowly picking himself up. The taller boy was bent over giggling, holding his stomach, the full pointing-and-laughing routine as the other boy glared at him, moving to sit up and brush off his loose-fitting shirt.

"It's not funny, Robert, that hurt!" the smaller boy said crossly. The boy called Robert laughed harder, wiping at his eyes.

"Be quicker next time, then, you slowpoke," Robert taunted. His laughter died when the smaller boy shot out his leg and knocked him clean over, landing him with an 'oof' into the dirt. It was the smaller boy's turn to laugh, but his triumph was short-lived. Robert pounced on him, and the two of them dissolved into a tumbling mess of limbs as they half-wrestled, half-pummeled each other into the dirt.

The hawk contemplated intervening - ridiculous, really, to think of doing something so hasty over a brotherly scrape - but thought better of it, considering the last time he screwed around with the timeline with good intentions it had ended on a rather sour note.

A flash of light from up above gained the hawk's attention, but it wasn't the flash that stirred the hawk's senses into a storm of sick agitation, it was the haughty essence that accompanied it. A tall tawny eagle appeared, swooping down to join him on his branch. The limb wobbled as the new occupant landed beside him, its rich brown feathers ruffling attractively. The hawk's head titled to view its new companion, wishing he could snap away as easily as she had come but knowing now that she'd found him, there was no getting away from her until she'd said what she came to say.

( _Go away, Q_.) The hawk's pupils dilated dangerously. ( _I am in no mood for whatever it is you're eager to say._ )

The eagle languidly stretched it's wings. The hawk ducked to avoid being clipped by her feathers. [ _There's no need to be rude_.] The eagle glanced down at itself. [ _Feathers, huh. I enjoy the beak and the claws, but I'm not so sure about the feathers. They don't sit well, do they? And they're terribly scratchy_.]

( _Oh, so you've come all this way just to_ complain _. Fantastic_.)

The eagle turned its gaze on the two boys wrestling below them. Her eyes blinked sharply. [ _Utterly despicable. Is this what I think it is_?]

( _Can't you just leave me alone? Pretty please_?)

[ _I could scarcely believe it if I wasn't seeing it for myself_ ,] the eagle continued in a drawling, unamused tone, [ _but here it is, right in front of me. What_ is  _it with your sick little fixation on humans? First that female Captain, now this Jean-Luc Picard_.]

Q's petty frustration was difficult to display in bird form, so he made his displeasure known with a shrill caw that sounded more warbling than he would have liked. ( _Jean-Luc was always first, you cow! I only went after Kathy because back then, Jean-Luc would have turned me down flat if I made him an offer like that. I was treading carefully!_ )

[ _Q, you're more deluded than I thought. Do you even realize what you're saying? You're risking the wrath of the Continuum for a creature that is no more your equal than a scrap of space debris is to a supernova_.]

Q desperately wished he weren't so emotionally compromised, or else he might have more easily mustered a truly scathing reply. The truth of it was, he was tired. Tired of justifying himself to his peers, tired of trying to maintain so many emotions he didn't feel even remotely equipped to deal with in abundance. The hawk's colorful crest raised and fluffed in defiance. ( _I wouldn't expect you to understand_.)

[ _Oh, I understand just fine. You've clearly lost your mind_.] The eagle began gently preening its glossy wings. [ _You're ignoring the Continuum's summons_.]

Q didn't see any need to confirm her words. Twice since Q left Starbase 74 after the attempted attack he'd felt the searing call of the Continuum surge through his essence, and both times he threw up his familiar walls and fled far away from those voices. Cowardly, maybe, but Q couldn't consider facing the Continuum, not now. Not so soon after he'd promised to take Jean-Luc with him when the Continuum next summoned him, not so soon after he'd had to briefly sample a reality in which Jean-Luc Picard died a fiery death.

( _Did you come here to drag me back_?) Q spat snidely.

[ _You think I want to involve myself any more than I have to_?] she asked him hotly. [ _Strangely enough, six billion years of association with you has made me care - just a little more than I probably should - about your... condition. I almost didn't come at all. You don't seem very_ keen  _on my presence anymore, after all_.]

( _And here I thought you weren't paying attention!_ ) Q quipped. The eagle pecked him. There was a flurry of flapping wings and angry squawks before they both settled, facing away from each other. ( _I don't need a 'friend' right now, thanks. Or pearls of wisdom, for that matter. So unless you have some other reason for being here, I'm sure you have a much more interesting way to spend your time._ )

[ _For reasons I can't_ begin  _to understand, I came to warn you about the situation back home._ ]

( _The Continuum is_ not  _my home_.)

The eagle shook its head. [ _My word. You're beginning to sound like 'Quinn'_.  _The pollution is more prevalent than I thought._ ] Q's voice when she spoke of the Q who dared to take his immortality into his own hands was thick with contempt. It made Q's proverbial skin crawl. Quinn's influence helped to remind Q of who he was, who he'd always been and what he'd forever fought to change within the Continuum. It unsettled him to think that soon, others might be speaking  _his_  name in that same repugnant tone. Like he was a blemish best left forgotten, only mentioned when it was necessary to compare something bad to something worse.

( _Pollution_...  _If I hear that ridiculous word_ one more time-)

[ _Are you going to deny it?_ ] The eagle pointed its wing toward the sun-kissed vineyards that stretched out before them, to the young boys who were done wrestling but much dirtier for it, their game of tag resumed. [ _What else would you call this? Look what he's reduced you to! Sitting up here watching from afar, like some sad, lovelorn little-_ ]

( _Leave him out of this_ ,) Q's essence swelled and crackled stormily. ( _This was all_ my  _doing. If I hadn't told him how I felt, he would be carrying on with his life just as before. He needn't worry about the Continuum threatening to pass judgement on his future_.)

[ _Is that why you're here?_ ] Q asked him in a slightly less snooty tone. [ _Are you going to swoop down there and warn that little boy to never associate with a pathetic, reckless Q who will someday make a rather garish confession and disrupt the natural order of his life?_ ]

The hawk moved its eyes back to the boys, focusing on the smaller of the two. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't considered it. He wasn't quite certain what brought him here. Possibly to remind himself of Jean-Luc's mortality, or to convince himself that Jean-Luc had once been just as ordinary as every other drab human that Q had absolutely no interest in. Watching that mud-streaked boy running through the bushes of delicate flowers, his sandy hair tousled and flecked with dirt, Q couldn't claim that. Even at nine years old Jean-Luc still emanated greatness and leadership. His eyes were the same as they would come to be fifty years from now, glimmering with ambitious dreams of sailing beyond the stars, of leaving this vineyard to assert humanity's right to explore the universe. A right that Q will be tasked to judge.

( _Just tell me what you came to tell me and leave_.)

[ _You know, I'm not even sure if I should_.] Q drawled. [ _You've been nothing but volatile since I arrived. At the current moment, I am the only one trying to help you, you know_.]

( _You've come to help me by telling me that Picard is polluting me? Oh, thank you ever so much_.)

[ _He_ is  _polluting you_.]

( _Just tell me what the Continuum's ruling is, already!_ )

The eagle sharply cocked its head to stare down at the smaller hawk beneath it. [ _They haven't ruled either way. You have more support than I would have expected, and this whole situation is dredging up old wounds regarding the war, which is putting everyone in a difficult position. They're still deliberating, but they want you to come back for more questioning_.]

Q was only slightly relieved by the news. Mostly he wished they'd get on with things so that he could banish the horrid uncertainty that was plaguing his essence.

( _I'm not going back_.)

[ _Q_.]

( _You've told me what you came to tell me, now scurry back to the Continuum and leave me be_.)

[ _You can't possibly believe that this…._ association  _hasn't contaminated you. You're losing yourself, Q. He's molding you to his own primitive image, he's humanizing you. And you're_ letting  _him do it._ ]

( _How many different ways do I have to say 'go away' before it sinks in?_ )

The eagle's body tensed menacingly, its eyes round and sharp. Its gleaming, pointed beak parted to create a harsh, agitated shriek. [You're _the one who isn't listening!_ ]

There was shrieking and a flurry of frantic feathers as the eagle lunged at the smaller hawk, curved talons striking out at him. The hawk didn't stand a chance against the larger, much more agile eagle. The two of them fell from the tree, the hawk caught in the eagle's clutches, flapping its wings desperately to slow their descent. They crashed into the underbrush below. The hawk struggled in vain beneath the larger predator, who held it firmly down with its piercing claws.

[ _If you refuse to return, fine. I won't force you. But you should realize what's likely to happen if you continue to behave like a petulant child_.]

The eagle's talons pressed into its captive's soft feathered abdomen, holding him tightly as she reared her head back. Her beak came down upon his wing like a shining guillotine. Q didn't feel the pain of his torn and bloodied wing, of course, but the message was very clear.

In a diamond of light, she was gone.

The hawk lay on the ground, its damaged wing spread out uselessly. He didn't know what to do. If he returned to the Continuum, there was no guarantee he would ever see Jean-Luc again. He'd promised Jean-Luc he would bring him along when he was summoned, but could he really risk that? Wouldn't that only incriminate him more completely? He hated to admit it, but Q had been right about one thing. If he didn't appear before the Continuum at this very crucial time, then - here, he flopped his shredded wing in the dirt - he would only be making things much harder on himself.

Suddenly, a familiar - but still terribly unfamiliar, somehow - consciousness flooded into his own, only for a fleeting moment before Q summoned the good sense to shield his mind. The hawk struggled to its feet, at full alert. Who could have possibly…? The only other mind who was allowed a space inside of him was Jean-Luc Picard, and clearly he wasn't-

Oh.  _Oh_.

The small boy with tousled, sandy hair was staring at the wounded hawk a mere three meters away, warm hazel eyes round in a sweet mixture of awe and concern. He was approaching slowly, carefully, his fingers outstretched on each hand in an attempt to calm a frightened animal. Q watched him, his essence fluttering in panic and a dash of affection. Their bond had become so strong that it endured even now, when Jean-Luc Picard was a young child fit to burst with dreams of what his future held, none of those dreams involving an omnipotent alien entity who would come to needlessly complicate his life so thoroughly that it would never be the same again.

The hawk righted its wing and flew away at full speed.

.

.

.

Since the attempted attack on the starbase the Venki remained on the  _Enterprise_ with a full security team to escort them at all times. No crewmen was allowed to come or go without the Captain's expressed permission - it was the best Picard could do to ensure the safety and comfortability of their guests before they disembarked. The  _Enterprise_ left spacedock at 0900 hours, a little later than the originally estimated time, but the warp core was functioning 'above and beyond optimal parameters' according to a very pleased Geordi La Forge, so the delay seemed to be worthwhile.

Hours before leaving spacedock, Admiral Danvers made the rather unexpected decision to accompany them to the Beta Zynaath system. Jean-Luc couldn't claim that this was unusual in the slightest given the circumstances - after what happened on the base, any starship captain would welcome another authoritative helping hand - but he couldn't shake what the Admiral had conversationally said to him just after coming aboard:  _This might give me a chance to speak with your Q while I'm at it, provided he finds the time_.

 _Your_ Q.

If any of his colleagues had made a comment like that in jest, Jean-Luc would have thought nothing of it. Danvers made it sound positively insulting. As if Q weren't even a sentient being, just a stray creature that Picard had picked up along his travels. A pet, perhaps. The notion was almost nostalgic, reminding him of a time when Data had drawn a similar comparison to Q's fascination with him, but infinitely more unwelcome.

Another part of him wondered if Danvers was implying something more. He couldn't imagine that was the case, considering only a handful of commanding officers knew that he and Q were intimate, and he easily trusted each one of them to be discreet with that information. No, surely he was overthinking things. Such an insinuation would be wildly inappropriate.

Picard's ready room door alerted him to a guest as he was thumbing through the thick pages of his photo album. It had been so long since he'd last visited it's pages he'd had to brush the dust off the cover when he'd pulled it out, and the spine creaked with protest when he opened it. The sound of it caused a knot of guilt to catch in his throat, a sick reminder of just how fervently he avoided looking at the faces of his departed family. He wasn't sure what prompted him to look today. Perhaps his brush with death - a literal peek of his own mortal fragility - had left him feeling more sentimental than he cared to admit.

Jean-Luc brushed his fingers over his favorite picture of Robert and Rene before carefully closing the album and sliding it to the edge of his desk.

"Come."

The door opened to welcome Admiral Danvers inside. Picard offered the man a cordial smile and straightened his shoulders. "Admiral. What can I do for you?"

"Just a bit of your time, Jean-Luc, if you're not busy," Danvers replied, seating himself comfortably in the chair on the other side of the desk when Picard gestured.

"Not just at the moment." Jean-Luc rose from his seat, tugging his uniform sharply. "Tea?"

"Yes, please. You still drinking earl grey?"

"Religiously."

"I'll take the same, thank you."

Picard ordered the tea from the replicator. "Tell me, do you still take your coffee black?"

"I can't believe you remember that," Danvers chuckled.

"We shared morning coffee for nearly two years before I was promoted to Captain," Jean-Luc pointed out, carrying a tray of tea back to the desk and pouring them both a steaming cup.

"True enough. I take milk and sugar now. Developed a sweet-tooth in my older age, it seems."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Danvers picked up his cup and blew over his tea, taking a careful sip. "I contacted Starbase 74 a few hours ago," he said, setting down his cup, "they are still at a loss as to what happened. It seems the explosion was somehow contained around the assassin, perhaps with a force field of some kind." Jean-Luc's stomach sank. He drowned the discomfort with a piping gulp of tea. "It's difficult to tell, with what little remains they were left to analyze. The working theory is that the assassin attempted to transport away once he'd set off the explosive, causing an unforeseen reaction. Lucky for us."

"For us." Jean-Luc murmured solemnly.

"Well. That man decided his own fate. It's just fortunate he wasn't able to take anyone else with him."

Jean-Luc nodded, not feeling up to arguing the point. He never saw fortune in death, no matter how reprehensible the victim appeared to be.

"So. The entire incident remains shrouded in mystery, it seems." Danvers continued.

"A Starfleet officer is no stranger to mysteries."

"I dislike mysteries, myself," Danvers said conversationally.

Jean-Luc Picard never falsified reports. Never. He couldn't claim he had a spotless record, surely, but he had never knowingly reported events differently than the way he had personally experienced them. That being said, the attempted attack on Starbase 74 existed, for him, as a Schrodinger's Cat paradox. Two realities existed, the reality where the attack succeeded, and the other where it failed. Had he not forged such a powerful bond with Q, he would have remained blissfully ignorant of the other reality, and Q likely wouldn't have come forward with the truth. And why should he be expected to, when technically those events never occurred? Why ever tell him how many dozens of times he'd been killed, when it could be easily remedied with the snap of omnipotent fingers?

In the end, Jean-Luc had merely reported what he'd witnessed in the reality in which he survived. There was no point in saying anything more. Q's involvement would only raise more questions, questions that ultimately would do nothing more than reveal aspects of their relationship that were no one's business but their own.

Well. Perhaps it  _was_ Starfleet's business that the Captain of their esteemed flagship was no longer technically mortal.

 _Merde_. It was all so horribly fucked up.

Danvers sipped his tea, humming appreciatively. "I haven't seen Q since we disembarked. Is he well?"

Jean-Luc assumed the Admiral wasn't daft enough to think a Q could be ill, so he could only attribute his inquiry to snarkiness. "He doesn't usually spend a tremendous amount of time on the ship. His visits are rather sporadic." It was difficult to find ways around saying 'I haven't seen him since the incident, although he promised me I would see him later that night and I don't know whether to be concerned or miffed or both'.

"Too bad. He seemed willing to speak with me, before. Perhaps he's since decided that it's not worthy of his time."

Jean-Luc's lips pressed into a thin line. "It is my understanding that the Continuum has been keeping him busy. I'm sure he still intends to honor your request."

Danvers perked a brow, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. "And what sort of missions does the Continuum task him with, I wonder?" he asked. The purpose of the Admiral's visit was becoming more clear with every word spoken, and Jean-Luc didn't much care for the direction it was taking. "Do any of his routine assignments involve executing terrorists, or saving the lives of innocent bystanders?"

Jean-Luc's cup froze mid-lift, just barely touching his lips. It wasn't possible for him to know something like that, Jean-Luc reminded himself as he took a long drink of his tea. This was purely speculation, and speculation was not damning unless there was evidence to validate it. Jean-Luc set his cup back down for the final time, squaring his shoulders.

"Are you saying you believe Q is responsible for what happened on the starbase?"

"Do you find that so odd?" Danvers asked. "It certainly wouldn't be the first time he has extended a helping hand." Shifting slightly in his seat, the Admiral produced a PADD from inside his jacket, languidly tapping a few keys. He cleared his throat. "'Stardate: 46254.7. Following a politically-fueled attack led by a small faction of Lenarians, I was assaulted and suffered a major heart attack due to internal damage. I wish I could attribute my quick recovery to the unequalled skills of Doctor Crusher, but it seems someone else took an interest in my plight.'" Danvers swiped his finger over the screen to scroll past the bulk of the text as Jean-Luc watched him, his jaw rigid and his teeth ground hard together. "You go on to say that Q took you on a tour of another reality before dropping you back into your body and saving your life."

"You'll also note that I explicitly stated my own suspicion as to the validity of that event. It could have easily been a hallucination. My brain was without oxygen for nearly ten seconds."

"I would have thought you might have asked the entity about it sooner or later."

"I've never seen the need."

Danvers' eyes narrowed only slightly, though he fought to keep up a friendly smile. He glanced back down at the PADD, selecting another log. "A year later, you reported another incident involving Q, one in which you credited him for helping you save humanity."

Jean-Luc's expression was tight and vaguely vexing. "If I didn't know any better, I might assume you consider the saving of humanity to be a bad thing."

"Not at all," Danvers dragged his finger along the screen again, and Jean-Luc saw him highlight a specific passage. "It's this bit I'm more interested in: 'Q has always had a certain fascination with humanity, with myself in particular. As I made mention to my commanding officers, I think he has more than a passing interest in what happens to me.'"

Hearing his own words parroted back to him made Jean-Luc feel oddly indignant. "I'm failing to see the point in all this, Admiral." Which was a lie, of course, because he  _could_ see the point in it, and it was making his every nerve ignite with protective fury.

Danvers slipped the PADD back into his jacket. "I thought I was making my point quite clear, Jean-Luc. Q has shown - on numerous occasions - to be adverse to the idea of your destruction."

"It was Q's actions who led me into the clutches of the Borg."

"I'm not claiming to understand the logic behind a Q's actions." Danvers shot back seriously. "We know so little of them as it is. What I  _do_ know is that it would be little trouble for an entity with near limitless power to suppress a single explosion in order to save a human they appear to be overly fond of."

Jean-Luc sighed through his nose and folded his hands tightly together. "No, I don't expect it would be. Q acts of his own volition. If he was responsible for a malfunction that saved countless lives, there would be no way of knowing for certain. Though I can't say I would fault him for it. Most would consider it an act of heroism."

"And why, I wonder, would he continually ensure your safety?" Danvers pressed on. "Is he acting as an agent of the Continuum, or does he have some other agenda?" It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. Picard knew the difference, and the curt professionalism of it annoyed him.

"I wouldn't know. Q often does things exclusively for his own self-indulgence."

"And that, Jean-Luc, is my concern," Danvers said heavily. "You claim that this Q has earned your trust, but I have to wonder to what end."

Jean-Luc's irritation was growing at an alarming rate. "What exactly are you implying, Phillip?"

Danvers shrugged his shoulders up, exhaling a deep breath. "I have to wonder what it would mean for the Captain of a starship to have his own omnipotent entity at his disposal. An entity who seems keen on keeping this Captain alive and well, to boot."

Jean-Luc found himself at a rare loss for words. He'd known from the beginning that Danvers didn't approve of his ship's increased familiarity with Q, but he'd never expected to be under suspicion of  _using_ Q as some sort of  _philosopher's stone_. He was uncomfortably reminded of their conversation on Yern over a year ago, when Q had promised him the universe if only he would accept it, when Q compared his readiness to fulfill Jean-Luc's every desire to a genie's obligation to serve its master. Just thinking about it made Jean-Luc sick to his stomach.

"I'm not in the habit of being insulted in my own ready room, Admiral," Jean-Luc said, fighting the tremble of anger that his throat was threatening. "What you're insinuating, it's deplorable. Not to mention outrageous. To suggest that any Q would submit themselves to becoming a human's  _drudge_ is pure _fantasy_ -"

"Fantasy  _is_ reality to a Q, Jean-Luc, can't you see that?" Danvers' voice rose to be heard over Jean-Luc's, his pale complexion developing an angry pink tinge. "How can you be certain your judgment hasn't been compromised? Your ethics? How can you be certain of  _anything_ when you have an omnipotent companion with an 'interest' in what happens to you?"

It took every ounce of his self-control not to launch himself across his desk and punch Danvers full in the face. Jean-Luc was not a violent man, nor was he usually so easily goaded, but he absolutely couldn't tolerate hearing such accusations. The frustrating truth of it was that Danvers had a point, ignorant though it was. There was no way Jean-Luc could prove that his command hadn't been jeopardized by Q. What could he possibly say? Admitting to their relationship would only further complicate the matter. If Danvers already thought being familiar with Q was compromising his judgment, admitting to being in a romantic relationship with him was unlikely to alleviate his concerns.

Jean-Luc's tightly knit fingers were squeezing the life out of each other. "Q has my full, complete trust, as well as the trust of my crew. Whether or not he prevented the attack on the starbase should not be grounds for suspicion. I do not tell him how he may or may not use his powers, and he respects the rules of this ship."

"I'm sure he does," Danvers sneered, "but if he becomes bored? If he decides he's tired of adhering to Starfleet regulations?"

Jean-Luc couldn't bear to admit that he'd had those same worries once, at the infancy of their relationship. Those were worries he no longer had, but could he really fault a third-party individual for having those same concerns?

"I should tell you, Jean-Luc, that I've filed a query regarding this… situation. I don't believe there is room on a Federation starship for a creature like Q."

Yes. Yes he  _absolutely_ could.

Jean-Luc shot up from his seat, palms pressed against the smooth surface of his desk. "I don't believe I've heard such intolerance spoken by a Starfleet Admiral before," he said furiously, quietly, his voice quaking with fury. "Federation starships are out here to explore, for the purpose of seeking out new life. It was this principle that once inspired me to join Starfleet. Had I known that seeking out new life only extended to life that is less powerful than us, I might not have been so adamant."

Danvers was glaring up at Jean-Luc with fire in his eyes. "As your superior it is my moral obligation to ensure your Captaincy has not been compromised. Call it intolerance if you like, but I believe an entity with God-like powers serving on a starship undermines everything the Federation stands for. It's dangerous, and frankly I find it reckless."

"Reckless," Jean-Luc repeated softly, bowing his head to quietly compose himself. "I'll tell you what's reckless. Telling an absurdly powerful entity what they can or cannot do based on the suspicion of  _heroism_ , of all things."

"That sounds disturbingly like a threat," Danvers hissed.

Jean-Luc stood tall and tugged his uniform sharply. "An observation," he said.

"Dammit, Jean-Luc, I'm only trying to-"

The rest of the Admiral's sentence was to forever remain a mystery. His lips were open with the beginnings of a frozen word, his expression a snapshot of pretentious outrage. The tension in Jean-Luc's shoulders lessened a fraction as the surprise set in. He'd accumulated enough experience with time anomalies to recognize when he was existing within one; aside from Danvers being obviously frozen in his seat, he could no longer hear the hum of the engines or the ambient noises of the bridge beyond the door of the ready room.

"Q." Jean-Luc leaned on his desk, his chest expanding with a deep, calming breath, slightly ashamed of himself for succumbing to the Admiral's pompous taunts. "Q, where are you?"

The usual tell-tale  _swishing_ sound that tended to accompany Q's manifestation was absent, but Jean-Luc could feel him appear all the same. Jean-Luc glanced up to find Q standing by the fish tank, staring at its striped, unmoving occupant with a strangely blank expression. Immediately Jean-Luc knew something was very wrong. He could almost physically  _see_ an oppressive dark mist wildly fluctuating around Q's silhouette, and as soon as their minds touched Jean-Luc's consciousness practically recoiled.

"Q?" Jean-Luc's tone shifted from irritation to concern in no time flat. The previously still space around them seemed to vibrate, stabilizing a moment later as though it never happened. "What's wrong?"

Q was so still Jean-Luc almost thought he had somehow frozen himself as well, but after a strangely tense moment Q turned away from the fish tank, his lips thin, his jaw set.

"He's just like them," the entity spoke softly but there was menace in his voice, dark and uncomfortably nostalgic, his eyes turned on the Admiral in his chair. Jean-Luc tried to reach out with his mind once again but was knocked back. It wasn't walls this time, it was something else. As if Q's consciousness was too turbulent, too stormy for him to traverse.

"Just like… whom?" Jean-Luc took a tentative step forward. "Q-"

"Like the Continuum," Q said, his expression Vulcan-blank. The sight of it was unsettling. Jean-Luc had never seen Q's face so neutral and devoid of passion. Q was always either passionately angry or annoyed or joyous or sinister or satisfied but he was  _never_ blank. He was always  _something_. "Doesn't it seem a bit cliche to you,  _mon capitaine_? Star-crossed lovers, torn apart by their warring families.  _Romeo and Juliet_. So romantic."

" _Romeo and Juliet_  is not a romance, Q, it's a tragedy. It's a cautionary tale meant to warn against rashness and misplaced passion."

"I fail to see the difference."

Jean-Luc tried a third time to reach Q's consciousness and was flung back. With each attempt it was becoming more and more clear that his own consciousness was stuck in some sort of bubble, like Q was protecting him from something. Another small tremor affected the room, lingering longer than the last, and at the same moment Q rose his hand to touch his temple, his face scrunching in pain. Jean-Luc's throat constricted with worry.

"What's wrong?" Jean-Luc was across the room in moments, raising his hands to touch Q's hand and his face. "Something is happening to you, Q, tell me what's going on!"

Q's eyes appeared to look right through him. "I don't know what to do," he said shakily, his brow still pinched in discomfort, "just  _tell_ me what to do. Please."

For a horrified moment Jean-Luc wasn't even sure if Q knew he was there. "I need you to calm down." Jean-Luc held his face and gently turned Q's head to look him in the eye. Q's expression barely twitched. "If Admiral Danvers has upset you, I can tell you that his query isn't going to find traction. And if it's the Continuum-"

Another quake and Q actually let out a pained cry and folded over, his hands flying to his head. Jean-Luc grabbed his shoulders to help stabilize him as the realization crept up on him. "Please, I didn't mean to mention… Q. Have they been summoning you?" he asked as gently as he could manage, feeling ridiculously helpless. "Do you remember what I asked? I'll go with you, I'll be right by your side to-"

"If we go, it will all go wrong," Q puffed, his human body straining against the pressure of an entire dimension pressing down on him. "They want to take you from me. There's nothing I can do.  _Nothing I can do_ -"

"Calm down and listen to my voice," Jean-Luc insisted, keeping a firm hold on Q's shoulders. "We'll go together, alright? Let's go right now, before you put yourself through any more unnecessary grief."

" _No_!" Q's voice was suddenly harsh, almost a shout, "I pulled you into this, Jean-Luc, I've put you through enough over the years but I absolutely refuse to be responsible for your destruction!"

"What are you  _talking_ about?" Jean-Luc exclaimed in surprise. "You think you're somehow to blame for this? What the Continuum decides is not your fault!"

" _Isn't it_?" Q barked. "I started this knowing that it might happen. I've put your command in jeopardy, your safety, your entire  _life_ has been upheaved because of-  _Aah_ -!"

Another tremor, so potent that Jean-Luc could not be shielded by its influence. His vision flickered and a pain he rarely experienced in his life rattled the back of his skull. His grip on Q slackened and he fell to his knees, vaguely aware that Q had fallen in a similar fashion beside him. This couldn't go on. A few more minutes of this and neither of them were likely to come out of it unscathed. In a desperate, last-ditch effort to be heard Jean-Luc attempted to reach Q's mind a final time, repelled by the sheer chaos to be found within. Q was having a complete breakdown, that much was clear, and Jean-Luc was unable to do anything to quell the anguish. He could only share in it.

"Q, listen to me-"

"I won't let them hurt you," Q gasped, and by now Jean-Luc was certain his voice wasn't reaching Q at all. "I know places to hide. I know- yes, there are nooks and crannies everywhere."

" _Q_ -"

The next tremor that came seemed powerful enough to tear  _Enterprise_ asunder. Jean-Luc felt as though his body were being pulled apart from the inside and his brain screamed in protest, the hot pain searing through his skull. Thousands of panicked thoughts and brightly-colored flashes of anxiety crashed down on him, unending, impossible to comprehend, and Q wasn't coherent enough to shield him from it. He wouldn't survive it, he couldn't, he  _didn't want to_  if it meant one more second of this unbearable agony.

And in the next moment, everything stopped. Jean-Luc's mind was thrust into darkness, splintered, silence flooding into all the spaces where Q used to be. He fell into the void, his senses abandoning him, his memories falling away like broken shards that could no longer keep together.

There was nothing but the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay look I am Untrustworthy and I apologize for nothing
> 
> Stuff is happening. Lady Q appears!! We finally know why Danvers was so very adamant to speak with Q, and it’s just as prickish as a lot of you assumed it would be. Everything is going to be… different for a while. Like, really different. STRAP IN AND BEAR WITH ME GUYS
> 
> Also: SO EXCITED FOR THE QCARD BIG BANG! I drew a couple of arts for the first time in over a year for this, that is literally how excited I am. :3


	9. Chapter 9

"Professor?"

An earnest, polite voice momentarily distracted Jean-Luc from the brisk tapping of term papers he was executing against his desk. A young woman with honey-blonde hair tied up in an elaborate bun stood just behind him, books clutched to her chest, plump pink lips poised to ask a question as a throng of undergrads filed out of the lecture hall behind her. All but one, Jean-Luc noticed, his eyes flicking up to regard a young man with wavy brown hair still sitting in the third row, taking his sweet time to pack up his things. Quenton Janeway never failed to wait for his much more bookish friend while she lingered after a lecture to ask questions. For that matter, they were always together in some way or another, so much so that Jean-Luc often wondered if the two of them ever did things independently of each other. If he were the type to speculate on the private relationships of his students - which he absolutely wasn't, because that was wildly inappropriate - he might assume they were lovers, but their attachment seemed more familial than intimate.

Jean-Luc slipped a paper clip over the edge of his newly neatened pile of papers and offered the girl a smile once he'd set them aside. "Ms. Rogers, what can I do for you?"

Amanda readjusted the hulking mass of books in her arms. "Actually, I was wondering if you had a moment to speak with me about my final essay topic? I have a couple ideas, but I was really hoping you could give me some advice."

"Of course," Jean-Luc answered, stepping around his desk, leaning back on the front edge. "Fire away."

The girl's lips pulled into a soft smile, but she looked distinctly timid. "I was thinking maybe something along the lines of 'children of the past', focusing on how children lived in ancient societies." she said.

"Interesting," Picard said, scratching his chin. "And to my knowledge, completely original this year. As usual, you're creating a challenge for yourself. There are always so few salvageable records in regards to children throughout history, no matter the society. What was your other idea?"

Amanda's already round eyes went slightly rounder. From behind her, Quenton was peering at them inquisitively over a book he'd opened for no good reason Jean-Luc could discern. Amanda cleared her throat gently. "Uhm, well. 'Ancient archaeological digs of T-Tagus III...'?" She spoke the title like a question, as though she were searching for some sort of reaction. Her lips disappeared into a thin line and she watched her professor's face imploringly.

Jean-Luc wondered vaguely if Quenton had put her up to this. Amanda was his best student this semester, brilliant and earnest, but Quenton had a notable mischievous streak that sometimes made Jean-Luc wonder just how he had been accepted to this university in the first place.

"I'm not sure I'm familiar with Tagus III," Picard noted with a wry smile, "It rather sounds like something from a sci-fi novel. If you'd like my advice, I'd say you'd be better off limiting your essay to real people and places."

"Farpoint?" she ventured hopefully.

"Try again," Jean-Luc answered.

"Romulus!" She spoke the word like someone might suggest a password to a magic wall in hopes that it would open.

"This is just getting silly now," Jean-Luc said a little more sternly.

Amanda almost seemed to deflate in disappointment. Perhaps she'd hoped he would play along. "Yes of course," she said, offering him an apologetic smile. "S-sorry. My other idea was 'the excavations of the eighteenth dynasty of Egypt'."

"Better. But I think I prefer your first choice. They're both very original topics."

"Thank you, professor."

The impatient tapping of knuckles on frosted glass diverted Jean-Luc's attention to the doorway, and when his eyes followed the sound, he felt his breath hitch uncomfortably in his throat. Leaning against the door frame was a tall, well-dressed man with one hand stuffed into the pocket of his posh jacket and an annoyingly smug grin on his lips. Jean-Luc couldn't prevent his posture from stiffening or his jaw from clenching at the sight of him. He wished his surprise weren't so apparent, because it only seemed to widen the man's smile and bring a twinkle to his dark eyes.

" _You_ ," Jean-Luc blurted without thinking.

"Me!" the man repeated, pleased. "Don't tell me you've forgotten my name already."

"You never  _gave_ me your-" Jean-Luc cleared his throat and glanced back at Amanda, who was staring at the man in the doorway with eyes as large as saucers, her hands gripping her books so tightly her knuckles were bone-white. Behind her, Quenton was gathering up his things with haste he hadn't possessed moments prior - or  _ever_ \- his head down, looking as though he had somewhere he urgently needed to be.

"Ms. Rogers, did you need anything else?" Jean-Luc asked the girl with an encouraging smile. She pried her eyes from the well-dressed man and offered her professor a nervous smile.

"No, Professor. Thank you for taking the time."

"If you have any other concerns about your essay, be sure to let me know."

"I will."

"That goes for you as well, Mr. Janeway." Jean-Luc called to Quenton as the young man joined his friend, his hastily-stuffed bag slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Thanks." Quenton answered stiffly, avoiding eye contact with literally everyone.

"See you both on Tuesday."

The students filed out of the room, passing quickly by the tall man as he moved into the room with a confident stride. Jean-Luc pretended not to notice, turning back to his desk to rearrange some already-perfectly-arranged documents.

"I hope you understand this is highly unusual," Jean-Luc said offhandedly. The footsteps behind him halted.

"Is it?" the man said in mock-curiosity. Or at least, Jean-Luc  _assumed_ it was meant to be mocking. He'd only met this man once before, but he thought he'd figured him out well enough. It might be said that he made a strong impression. "You told me you were teaching here this fall, and you never called me. How  _else_ was I supposed to get a hold of you?"

Jean-Luc rested his hands on his desk, breathing a large sigh through his nose. "Why are you  _trying_ to get a hold of me?" he asked, turning to face him. The man was closer than he'd anticipated. Jean-Luc could smell his musky aftershave. "I told you before. I don't have anything to do with my brother's business, nor do I decide what establishments he deals with. If he told you he doesn't want to sell, there's little I could say to dissuade him."

The man rolled his eyes, anchoring his hands on his hips. "What is it with your brother, anyway? Does he hate money?"

Jean-Luc didn't  _mean_ to smile, not really, but it wasn't every day he heard such an accurate assessment of his brother. "You might say that."

"It seems petty, is all. Just because he didn't like my car?"

Jean-Luc recalled the utter lunacy of seeing a sleek, silver Lamborghini parked outside the Picard family home by the vineyards. Such a garish display of pretentiousness looked hilariously out-of-place beside the quaint property, framed by a classic thatched roof and iron-cast gates and lush foliage. At the memory, Jean-Luc allowed himself a soft chuckle.

"Your car wasn't the only issue," he said. "I think it's the whole… attitude that comes with it. If I hadn't been by to visit, I rather think he might have punched you. Robert doesn't take well to men like you."

The man tilted his head at Jean-Luc inquisitively, his dark eyes boring into him like hot coals. "And how similar to your brother are you, Professor?" he ventured.

"We're about as different as two men can be. But I can't say I care for Lamborghinis."

"Ah, well. I guess you wouldn't be tempted by a joy-ride, then."

"No, not especially." Jean-Luc sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back into his desk. "Is that all you needed, then? Came to check if I'd convinced my brother to let you sell his wine in your brand new restaurant?"

The man perked a brow and took a lazy step closer to the desk. "Drat, you've seen through my clever ruse." He set his dark gaze on Jean-Luc, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Though in addition I thought perhaps I would invite you to my restaurant's grand opening next week."

Jean-Luc didn't usually gawk, but he felt distinctly like he was gawking now. Was he being asked out? By a man he'd met -  _briefly_ \- two weeks ago as his brother expelled him from the family home? A man who- oh. Right.

"I don't even know your name." Jean-Luc said flatly.

"I gave you my card!" the man pointed out.

"Your  _card_ ," If Jean-Luc was still carrying the confusing thing in his wallet, he would have taken it out and flung it at him. "It barely had two lines! Your phone number, and underneath it, the letter 'Q'."

The man grinned. "Well, that's my name."

Jean-Luc squinted suspiciously. "Your name is 'Q'? Surely you don't expect me to believe that."

"And why wouldn't you?"

" _Q_? That's hardly a name, all by itself. I'd assumed it was some sort of minimalist style."

"Tell you what, professor." The man - Q, he supposed - stepped closer, closer than Jean-Luc felt two strangers should be, especially when one of them was proposing something dangerously close to a date. "If you come to my grand opening, I'll tell you my name."

The dark, flirtatious tone of Q's voice was rivaled only by the predatory glint in his eyes. In Picard's line of work, there wasn't much time for romance, but he wasn't exactly oblivious to such open advances. Still.

"That's not much of a motivator, to be honest."

"I'll throw in a bottle of wine, then. Nothing as exceptional as  _Chateau Picard_ , but I'm sure I can find something to suit your tastes."

"Why come all the way here to extend your invitation?" Jean-Luc asked. "You realize that buttering me up isn't going to get me to change my brother's mind."

Q rolled his eyes and sighed hugely. "No, I suspect not. Your brother has already made his position  _quite_ clear."

Jean-Luc couldn't suppress a soft chortle, recalling his brother's choice of language as he shoved Q unceremoniously out his front door. "And I can tell you first-hand that his mind can rarely be changed once he's set on something." For an unfocused moment, Jean-Luc found himself tracing his eyes over Q's features, from his expressive, intense eyes to his broad jaw, pouting lips and the slight dimple in his chin - to what end, he couldn't be sure - but there was something strangely familiar about his face. Like he'd seen him somewhere before. The thought did not stick with him long. "That being said, if you'd like to rescind your invitation, I certainly wouldn't hold it against you."

Q's lips - the lips Jean-Luc had been shamelessly ogling moments earlier for no terribly good reason - pulled back into a confident smirk. "I admit, your brother's favor would have been a nice bonus, but my invite still stands."

Jean-Luc frowned. "Why?" he asked quizzically. "I mean…  _Why_? We only met once, and I've told you I don't have any part in the family business."

"Is it really so hard to believe that I wanted to see you again?" Q asked, his voice alarmingly husky.

"I highly doubt I made such a significant impression when we met that you would feel the need to visit me where I work."

"You weren't calling me. I got impatient."

Jean-Luc sighed, his hands gripping the edge of his desk. There were a million questions he wanted to ask, suspicions he wanted to voice, but somehow he couldn't conjure up the energy. He had papers to go over, phone calls to make, conference planning to do.

"Fine. When?"

"Saturday. Five pm."

"I have a conference to attend on Saturday."

"Surely not in the evening? A conference is a very  _morning_ activity."

"Yes, but they can run late. Especially when you're the one organizing it."

Q lowered his head but kept his eyes very much locked on Jean-Luc's with an expression that Jean-Luc could only call imploring. Jean-Luc's jaw tensed and he looked away, fixing his eyes on the far wall. "I will  _try_. Dress code?"

Q's grin widened and he took a step back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Like he'd just won himself a prize. "Oh professor, I can't imagine you own a single piece of clothing that doesn't  _at least_  qualify as business casual."

.

.

.

The conference did in fact run late, though not as late as Jean-Luc would have preferred.

A cab dropped him off down the street at a quarter after six. A five minute stroll wasn't exactly going to make him any more late, but Picard wanted to give himself at least that long to change his mind. Unfortunately as he found himself weaving through the crowd of excited restaurant-goers to find a place in line, he'd thought of no particularly good reason to turn tail and run.

Just as he was giving serious consideration to what in the world 'Q' expected of him, Jean-Luc was tapped on the shoulder by a woman in a sharp suit. "Professor Jean-Luc Picard?" she asked over the voices of the crowd, tapping a shining pen absently against a small notepad in her hand. Confused, Jean-Luc nodded, and the woman's face lit up in a relieved smile. Jean-Luc realized with a jolt of guilt that it was likely she had been tasked to seek him out, and he'd callously strolled in over an hour late. "You have a reserved seat. If you'll come with me, I'll seat you right away." As Jean-Luc was led into the restaurant, he nearly felt the need to ask how she had known him on sight, but quickly realized his bald head would be fairly easy to pick out in a crowd.

Q's restaurant -  _Grande Collina_ , the name read in big, flowing print on the door - was not lacking in style. It boasted a sharp, contemporary atmosphere that Jean-Luc didn't usually go for but he could certainly appreciate the appeal. Wood and mirror panels lined the walls and round, dim lights hung from the ceiling, doing well to create a relaxed, moody atmosphere. A shiny, arched bar lit up the farthest wall, manned by well-dressed tapsters who were serving drinks with smiles. Not the sort of place Jean-Luc would typically be eating dinner, but once he was seated at a table near the wall, he was absolutely locked in.

A server appeared to bring water and answer any questions Jean-Luc may have had about the menu before taking down his order and scurrying away. He'd thought to ask where Q was hiding himself but he couldn't force the words out of his throat, so instead he sat in silence, watching the hub of activity around him and feeling hopelessly out of place. It wasn't long before he heard a familiar voice among the chorus of noise, and looked up to see Q weaving around the tables and booths, speaking cordially and openly with his guests, patting their shoulders and laughing as they chatted at him animatedly. It was like watching the behavior of some undocumented wild animal in its natural habitat.

Jean-Luc had never been good at socializing in large groups, nor did he particularly care for it. Charm wasn't a skill he had ever given thought to hone. Archaeology was a decidedly anti-social study. Focusing on the cultures and artifacts of long-dead civilizations tended to encourage solitude and silence, and Jean-Luc fit comfortably into that mold. A man like Q seemed to be his polar opposite in every way, which only raised more questions about why Q had been so persistent with him.

He didn't realize he'd been staring until Q's eyes raised to meet his. An inexplicable rush of heat flew into Jean-Luc's cheeks as they held each other's gaze, Q's expression impossible to read but strangely intense. A moment later it was over. Q lowered his eyes and turned his attention to a table of excitable patrons who were motioning for him to join them; he flashed them a smile and sauntered over to their table, bowing over to speak with them as though they were all good friends. Perhaps they were. Jean-Luc looked away, vowing to focus on his own table and nothing else.

He spent the next half-hour being served wine and horderves, feeling slightly ridiculous. Q invited him here under rather vague pretenses, and although Jean-Luc couldn't claim he'd  _wanted_ a date-type scenario with a man he'd only just met, he certainly felt a little silly being the only chap eating alone in a bustling restaurant, regardless of the V.I.P. treatment. Perhaps he'd misinterpreted Q's intentions. Perhaps Q simply wanted him to celebrate the grand opening of his restaurant, perhaps he was simply an extroverted man who made friends incredibly easily. Perhaps there were  _dozens_ of guests Q had met in similar, fleeting ways, perhaps he was flirty and overbearing with everyone with whom he crossed paths.

He wasn't sure why the thought upset him.

After finishing off his one and only glass of wine, Jean-Luc thought perhaps it was time to go. As he was counting out enough money for the bill and the tip, his server appeared with a smile and a slip of paper. "Leaving so soon?" the waiter asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid I have somewhere else I need to be. Extend my best wishes to…" Jean-Luc cringed, realizing he still hadn't learned Q's name, "...to the proprietor. It was kind of him to invite me."

The waiter's eyes flicked to the bills Jean-Luc had already laid on the table, smiling. "I've been told, quite firmly, that your money is no good here." he chuckled. Jean-Luc frowned and eyed the slip of paper in the man's hands.

"Is that not the bill?"

"Not exactly," The young man dropped the slip of paper next to Jean-Luc's empty wine glass. "I was told to bring this to you right away."

Jean-Luc opened the paper, his eyes tracing over the hastily scribbled message.

_Come outside. Around back, big rose bushes._

_\- Q_

Jean-Luc desperately wished he'd gotten a bill instead. For a long moment he sat staring at the message, considering, weighing his options. Finally, against his better judgement, Jean-Luc pocketed the note, left the noisy restaurant and made his way around the back of the building.

Honestly, he'd had half a mind not to entertain any more of Q's overly demanding fancies, but he'd come all this way. He felt he was owed at least some explanation, or at least a 'hello' from the man who had coerced him to coming in the first place.

The aforementioned rose bushes were farther off than Picard expected they'd be. Far past the restaurant's lot there was a steep incline that sloped down to an unlit pedestrian road beside the river, guarded by a railing. A line of big, flowering rose bushes drew Jean-Luc's eye to a single path leading down to the road with Q standing idly beside it, staring out at the lake.

"You couldn't have just asked me here yourself?" Jean-Luc huffed crossly, watching as Q turned to the sound of his voice with an amused smile. "Passing me notes like a primary school child, really."

"Professor! I'm delighted you came." Q shed his jacket and draped it over his arm, loosening his tie. "Come, walk with me."

Jean-Luc frowned, glancing far behind them at the lights of Q's newly opened restaurant. "Walk with you? Shouldn't you be up there, doing the whole 'meet and greet'?"

Q blew a dismissing puff through his lips. "They have things under control, that's what I'm paying them for. This is the only way we can chat for a bit."

"I highly doubt that."

"Come on," Q urged, sweeping a hand invitingly toward the inclining path, "just for a little while." For a moment Jean-Luc continued to stare at his spread-open hand with clear reluctance, so he added, "Please?"

Jean-Luc sighed resignedly. "Alright, then. Lead the way."

The two of them stumbled down the incline and began a leisurely walk along the lake, leaving the general hustle and bustle of the event far behind them. For several long moments, Q said nothing. Jean-Luc wasn't incredibly adverse to silence, but there were still so many things he didn't understand, so many variables that didn't make sense. He still didn't know why he was here, for starters, and he couldn't begin to speculate on why Q was so intent on spending time with him. Never in his life had he met someone so strangely impulsive and forceful.

"Did you enjoy your meal?" Q finally broke the silence, his voice closer than Jean-Luc had anticipated, almost a ghost of a breath over the shell of his ear. "Was everything to your satisfaction?"

Jean-Luc cleared his throat and focused his attentions on the lakeside. "It was all fine," he said, "though I admit to having rather bland tastes. I haven't eaten anything quite so decadent in some years."

"Really?" Q's tone was inquisitive and mildly playful. "Next time, I'll have to treat you to some of my favorite dishes."

"Next time?" Jean-Luc repeated with a chuckle. "Aren't you being a bit presumptuous?"

"Should I not be?" Q asked. "You came tonight, didn't you? You barely know me, but you still came."

"And I'm still wondering why, honestly," Jean-Luc admitted. "I'm not in the habit of fraternizing with people I've only just met."

"Not very social, are you?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Married to your work?"

Jean-Luc sniffed and offered a sharp nod. "My work keeps me busy." He turned to glance at Q just in time to see that damnable wolfish smile.

"So, no wife?" Q asked.  _Definitely presumptuous_ , Jean-Luc thought. "Husband?" Q had apparently taken his silence as a sexual orientation. "Kids? Friends with benefits?"

Jean-Luc came to a full-stop in the middle of the road. Q was two paces in front of him before he'd noticed his companion had fallen behind, and turned on his heel to stare at Picard with raised brows. Jean-Luc pulled a deep breath in through his nose. "Do you question all your acquaintances this thoroughly?" he asked hotly.

Q jutted his bottom lip out in an attempt at a pout. "I meant no offense. I just want to know more about you."

"Why?" Jean-Luc couldn't hold back from asking.

Q stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment, his eyes tracing him from head to toe. Jean-Luc was quite sure he'd never been looked at quite like that in his life, not by anyone.

"I'm not certain." came Q's eventual reply.

Jean-Luc wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it hadn't been that. It was fair enough, he supposed, since he couldn't claim he had any idea why he'd agreed to come here in the first place either. Before he could offer any kind of satisfactory reply, Q came near and filled the empty spot beside him, slipping his hand to the low of Jean-Luc's back to gently guide him down the path. Although Jean-Luc thought to flinch away, he didn't. Just another decision he couldn't explain.

"Come along, professor. I had a spot I wanted to show you."

.

They walked in relative silence for a few short minutes as Q led them along the winding road. Q walked close to Jean-Luc's side, their elbows occasionally bumping, his head held high and his eyes focused on the steps in front of them. Jean-Luc continued to stare at the river, more as a diversion than out of actual interest. He wasn't sure what he was doing here. It had been a number of years since he had been on a date of any kind, but was this a date? If it was, he certainly hadn't been told. He felt he'd been tricked somehow. He'd agreed to attend an event as a meager show of support for an overly friendly man he'd just met, not a semi-romantic stroll along the riverside. Still he found himself walking alongside Q, being led to some unknown location for completely unknown reasons. He wanted to know why Q had brought him out here. It was the only reason he was putting up with any of this.

That, and he still hadn't learned Q's name.

"Here we are," Q chirped as they neared a divergence in the road that opened up to a small, quaint park area with a single bench nestled under a tree with low sloping branches and an excellent view of the lightning bugs twinkling over the lake. Jean-Luc perked a brow as Q laid his jacket on the back of the bench.

"What exactly are we doing here?" Jean-Luc asked, frozen just on the outer edge of the recently cut grass.

Q reached under the bench and pulled out a bottle of white wine and two glasses, glancing expectantly at Jean-Luc with a grin. "I promised you wine!" he said as means of an explanation.

Jean-Luc might have laughed if he hadn't been so disturbed. "Here?" he asked incredulously. "Have you forgotten about the restaurant you just opened? The restaurant you  _own_?"

"Oh please," Q was already pouring them each a quarter glass, "If I tried to enjoy a glass of wine with you there, I'd be pestered constantly!"

"They're your employees. What's what you pay them to do."

"I thought it was nicer out here. You struck me as the type who enjoys seclusion."

Jean-Luc sighed and rested his forehead in his hand. "Q. I need to ask."

"Hm?"

"What precisely are you expecting out of all this?" Jean-Luc asked seriously. "I have to admit that I'm not entirely….  _comfortable_ with what's happening. It's all going a little too fast for me. You haven't told me anything about yourself, or even why you've invited me out here tonight. As I've assured you several times now, I don't have any part in the family business-"

"I hope you don't still think I'm trying to win your brother's favor," Q chuckled, sitting down on the bench with a wine glass in each hand.

"Then what?" Jean-Luc demanded. "Why are you going to all this trouble? What do you want from me?"

A slow smile curled Q's annoyingly appealing lips, a smile that was bordering on fondness. "Your company," he answered simply, extending one of the glasses. "Just your company, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc stared at the offered glass, considering. Refusing would be ridiculous at this point. He'd come all the way here, he'd even agreed to take a walk with Q when that hadn't been part of the agreement. It was difficult to make sense of, but there was an element of interest holding him here, keeping him strangely malleable to Q's whims. To claim otherwise would be a plain admission of that interest, which Jean-Luc couldn't possibly allow. This was his iron-clad logic as he joined Q on the bench and took the glass, curiously sniffing it's contents.

"Viognier?"

"Only the best for the son of a winemaker," Q grinned.

Jean-Luc took a sip, tasted it carefully, and made a small grunt of approval. "So. It's my company you want." he said, watching the lightning bugs dance over the water.

"That's right."

"Then _at least_  tell me your name," Jean-Luc said in clear exasperation. "I can't keep calling you Q."

"Why not?" Q asked cheerily. "I rather like it when you call me that."

"A  _name_ , please."

Q rolled his eyes, crossing one leg over the other to rest his arm comfortably on his knee. "Quint." he said stiffly.

"Quint," Jean-Luc repeated. "No last name?"

The word seemed hesitant to leave Q's throat. "Quincy."

Jean-Luc could barely withhold a chortle. "Your name is  _Quint Quincy_? That sounds like the name of a comic book character."

"Now you see why I prefer an air of mystery."

For the first time since coming out this evening, Jean-Luc smiled in genuine amusement. "I certainly won't hold it against you," he chuckled, "but I might prefer Q over Quint Quincy, if I'm honest."

"By all means," Q grinned, leaning back and raising his glass to his lips. "I'll just have to think of a suitable pet name for you, as well."

"Don't you dare," Jean-Luc warned, trying and failing to rid himself of his smile. It was far too soon to show that he was having a good time.

"It's only fair," Q pointed out.

"One 'pet name' out of you and I'm walking."

"Fine, fine! No pet names. Not until our  _fourth_ date, at least."

The wine travelling down Jean-Luc's throat nearly forced its way back up, but by some miracle he managed not to choke. He took a moment to compose himself before attempting to speak. "So this is a date, is it? You might have made mention of that to me."

"I thought it was obvious," Q said flippantly, swirling his wine gently in its glass.

"I can't say I'm tremendously experienced myself, but I do think asking someone out on a date constitutes at least telling the intended person that it's meant to be a date."

Q glanced at Jean-Luc down his nose, a pleased smile on his face.  _The cat that swallowed the canary_ , Jean-Luc thought.  _Merde, does that make me the canary?_

"You might have said no," Q purred.

"I definitely would have said no," Jean-Luc lied.

"I wasn't trying to deceive you, you know. I really did want you to attend my grand opening. I just hoped we might spend a little time together in addition."

"Speaking of," Jean-Luc said, allowing himself to relax enough to lean his arm on the back of the bench, "how long have you been in the restaurant business?"

Q's eyes rolled up in thought and his tongue emerged to delicately dot his upper lip. "Let's see… About five months now, I'd say."

Jean-Luc stared at Q for a good long moment before deciding to take him seriously. "Excuse me, five months?"

"Give or take a few weeks." Q answered casually.

"Five months and you're opening your first restaurant?" Jean-Luc asked, unbelieving. "What did you do before?"

Q's eyes focused on the lake and his brow furrowed in obvious deliberation. As if your career was something you needed to  _remember_. "I was an industrial architect In Brazil for a while. Before that I worked as a soil conservationist in Denmark, and before  _that_ I believe I wasn't doing much of anything. I usually live out of a suitcase when I'm in between ventures."

Jean-Luc might have assumed Q was trying to be funny if he didn't appear to be concentrating so hard. For someone like Picard who had spent his life focusing on a singular goal, one field of study to dedicate his life to for the foreseeable future, it sounded like a chaotic, uncomfortably nomadic life with absolutely no driving force behind it.

"Just how many jobs have you had?"

"Oh, more than I can possibly count. I've never been good at settling down anywhere. Things get boring so very quickly."

"That sounds rather lonely." Jean-Luc said softly.

Q smiled. "It can be exciting," was his rebuttal, though he didn't deny the accusation of loneliness.

"So this restaurant of yours, how long will it hold your interest?"

Q took a long, slow drink of his wine, his throat gently bobbing with each swallow. Jean-Luc averted his gaze, bothered by the thoughts the sight elicited within him. "It's hard to tell." Q tapped his finger methodically against his wineglass. "A few months, maybe. Or longer, depending."

"Depending on what?"

Q's obnoxiously voluminous lips curled slowly into a suggestive grin. "If I find something that urges me to stay for a while."

Jean-Luc met Q's eyes, for the hundredth time trying to discern if perhaps this man was only trying to pull his leg, if this was all some elaborate prank. Every fiber in Jean-Luc's body told him sternly that he shouldn't trust Q, but he was equally convinced that Q was someone to be trusted. Staring into his eyes gave Jean-Luc an unusual sensation, as if he knew the secrets behind these dark irises and if he reached out far enough, he could touch the very core of him. Jean-Luc looked away toward the lake. "I should tell you. I'm not interested in a relationship. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that I'm not very  _good_ at relationships."

"Well, I'm not very good at giving up when something arouses my interest." Q purred.

Jean-Luc finished off his wine. "And I've aroused your interest?"

"I wouldn't be missing my own grand opening otherwise," Q chuckled.

Jean-Luc sighed resignedly. "At the university, I asked why you were pursuing me even though we'd only met once. You never answered me, never  _truly_ answered me, and I admit that I'm finding your interest in me baffling, to say the least."

Q's face scrunched into a frown. "And just why is that?" he asked, his voice tinged with offense.

"For starters, unless you look very good for your age, I'd wager I'm at  _least_  ten years your senior. There are younger, much better looking gentlemen who may be a great deal more open to your advances, you know."

The air went very quiet. Q's frown vanished, his mouth going too tight to maintain it. He looked positively indignant, as though he'd been struck across the face. In a fluid motion he stood, leaving the bench and crossing his arms over his chest, decidedly turned away. His reaction was surprising. A moment ago Jean-Luc might have assumed there was nothing he could say to offend his new acquaintance, but just now he seemed very plainly offended and for the life of him he couldn't fathom what he'd said to garner this sudden reaction.

"You insult me," Q finally said, "and you insult yourself. I don't just do this sort of thing for anyone, you know. When I met you I knew I wanted to see you again, and I could care less about your  _age_ of all things." He turned to stare Picard down with a demanding expression. "And what's this about 'much better looking men'? Have you  _seen_ you? Hair isn't everything, professor. I'm hard-pressed to find something about you I don't find achingly attractive."

Jean-Luc watched Q with wide eyes and a tight jaw, his heart thumping hard against his ribs, a blush threatening to bloom on his skin. "You don't even know me," Jean-Luc managed to rasp out of a dry throat.

"I'd like to," Q said firmly. "That's all I'm hoping for, Jean-Luc. I only want the opportunity to get to know you better, if you'll let me. No expectations. Just the promise that you'll have lunch with me sometime soon, and after that, perhaps dinner. Or a stroll through a museum, if you'd rather. Anywhere, honestly, I'm not picky."

It didn't seem possible for someone like Q to exist. This was like a scene out of one of those romance novels Jean-Luc often found so unworthy of printing paper. It didn't happen to real people. One didn't suddenly find themselves being pursued by a mysterious vagabond whose only motivator was one fleeting encounter where they'd traded words beside a vineyard on a hot summer day. None of it seemed even the least bit possible, but here he was, sitting on a bench surrounded by twinkling lights, an empty wine glass in his hand and a persistent - but slightly charming - man humbly asking for the chance to see him again.

"A museum might be nice," Jean-Luc finally said, reaching under the bench to reclaim the bottle of wine. "Or perhaps a tour of La Barre, since you're new to the area." He poured himself another half-glass. "Now come sit back down. If you're going to skip out on your own event, you may as well make the most of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't figure out how to end my story so I just started an AU, hope you guys like it! KIDDING, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME
> 
> What’s going on! Who knows??? Well, I know but shh, shhhh. I hope it's fairly clear who Quenton Janeway really is, lol. 
> 
> There will be answers, I promise you!! At least I didn’t leave it on a cliffhanger this time?


	10. Chapter 10

The air was stale and chalky. As Jean-Luc unlocked his office and stepped inside he was assaulted by the smell of it, a layer of nearly two months worth of dust and neglect baking in the sunlight that poured through the window. He dropped his bag on the desk and a glistening cloud of dust escaped beneath its weight. He waved it away, coughing into his hand. It was incredible just how much dust could accumulate in a such an insignificant span of time.

Jean-Luc wasn't sure why he'd come to the university first. He didn't have classes for another week and he couldn't deny he had somewhere else he very badly wanted to be, somewhere much more alluring than a musty old office. He blamed habit for bringing him here to the university - or jet lag, perhaps - but he knew he was just stalling for time. He feared that after two months of practically no contact with Q, an awkward wall may have sprung up between them that he wasn't sure how to maneuver around. He had no personal experience in this particular area, but it was his understanding that long bouts of distance put strain on a relationship, especially one so new.

A knock on the door drew his attention away from unpacking. Jean-Luc pulled a thick book from his satchel and lay it on his desk. "Come."

The door creaked open and a pair of pointed shoulders pushed inside, connected to a man with dark, slicked back hair, pale skin and striking gold eyes that were bright and inquisitive but otherwise lacking any clear indication of emotion. He was dressed in a comically scholarly robe that looked distinctly as if it belonged in a different century. "You have come back early," the man observed coolly, stepping inside once Jean-Luc offered him a smile and a nod. "I was under the impression that the excavation would not be over for several more days."

Jean-Luc continued to unload his bag. "We were forced to wrap up early. Sand storms hit the site and set our work back by half. Not many of us could stay that much longer with the funding we had, and some of us had classes and jobs to get back to. I caught the next flight back to France."

"That is unfortunate," the man said with a slight frown. "I hope you are able to return soon to finish your work."

Jean-Luc huffed a wry laugh through his nose. "Those sorts of setbacks are part of the job. I very much doubt the university will offer such a generous grant again any time soon." He offered the man a reproachful smile. "But you understand all about that, Data. Weren't the funds for your astrophysics conference pulled recently?"

Data nodded solemnly. "That was also unfortunate. Though I did get to attend the Modern Tools for Nuclear Astrophysics event later in the month, and it gave me several useful ideas for the future, when and if the opportunity presents itself."

Mr. Soong always had a miraculous way of finding the elusive silver lining in any scenario. "I'm sure it will," Jean-Luc said with assurance. "Enough about all that. How are classes? How are Geordi, Will, Deanna and the rest?"

"The university has been functioning at peak efficiency while you have been away," Data answered, drawing a soft smile from Jean-Luc. That sort of talk had become something of a joke between them, for almost as long as they'd been teaching together. "Have you contacted Mr. Quincy to let him know you have returned?" he continued curiously. "He stopped by regularly while you were away. I believe he missed you. He is quite an interesting man."

Jean-Luc paused in his unpacking and raised his eyes to Data, an awkward half-grin tugging up the corner of his mouth. "Oh, yes. Interesting indeed." It was fair to say Jean-Luc was still very unaccustomed to discussing his love life in any capacity, but Data was about as close to a real friend as it came. Jean-Luc got on well with nearly all of his colleagues, but he had a special affinity for Professor Soong. He set his bag aside and sat on the edge of his desk, clasping his hands together in his lap. "I left him a message when I got in."

"He will be delighted that you are back," Data offered pleasantly. "When he visited the university, he spoke very highly of you and the relationship you share. It would be accurate to say that he cares for you very much."

Jean-Luc rubbed his temple with a grimace. "Just how often did he drop by?" he asked in concern. "Please tell me he hasn't been going around saying anything… ah, inappropriate."

"Not at all," Data said. "In fact, he has made several donations to the university over the last month and a half, and has been very kind to the staff."

"That isn't exactly what I meant, but that's good to hear, I suppose."

There came a sudden and somewhat insistent knocking on the door, and before Jean-Luc could even bother to invite his new guest inside the door blew open - narrowly missing Data by mere inches - to reveal a slightly out of breath, less put-together-than-usual Q. His dark eyes were trained on Jean-Luc with laser focus, light pants escaping his lips, his jacket open and hanging loosely from his deeply expanding chest. Jean-Luc's jaw went slack and his voice abandoned him entirely.

"Mr. Quincy," Data chimed, blissfully ignorant of the aggressive sexual tension that had poured into the room the moment Q appeared, "It is good to see you again, we were just-"

"Likewise," Q grated out, though his eyes hadn't left Jean-Luc for even a moment, "now kindly get out, professor, or you may see something you'd rather wish you didn't."

Jean-Luc could feel his blush rise like a rush of hot fluid into his neck and jaw. " _Q_! You-"

"Certainly," Data piped with shocking obedience, turning to offer Jean-Luc a cordial smile. "I will speak with you later, professor. Please take your time."

Jean-Luc's retort jammed uselessly in his throat and blocked off his air. Professor Soong nodded to Q as he passed by him on his way out, conscientiously shutting the door behind him as he went. The room went eerily quiet. Jean-Luc finally summoned his voice but didn't get the opportunity to use it; Q was swooping in on him immediately, his mouth crushing over Jean-Luc's with such force that they both nearly toppled back onto the desk. He cradled Jean-Luc's jaw and tilted his head to kiss him deeply, desperately, in every way Jean-Luc had never been kissed in his life, like he was water in a desert, like his lungs had the air Q needed to breathe. Jean-Luc clung to the front of Q's jacket just for something to hang onto, opening his thighs to allow Q to push his way between them.

It was moments like this that Jean-Luc experienced an unusual sensation of deja-vu that he couldn't quite put into words. He'd never had a lover like Q and yet somehow his touch felt familiar, a passionate nostalgia, and it felt like home. He couldn't explain it, and he didn't dare try. Part of him worried that if he tried to put a name to the feeling it would slip away and he wouldn't be able to reclaim it. He'd only known Q for half a year but somehow he felt like an old friend - a pest sometimes, yes, but mostly a friend - and Jean-Luc refused to jeopardize that strange but thrilling sensation.

Q kissed him until they were both absolutely breathless. They pulled apart with reluctance, panting against each other's mouths. As the haze began to clear, Jean-Luc realized he had to come to terms with the inevitable fact that his good friend and colleague Data Soong had walked away from his office knowing full well what he was leaving them to. He prayed to whatever God might indulge him that Data was good at keeping his mouth shut.

"Q, you were incredibly rude to Professor Soong," his voice came out gravelly and weak and not nearly as chastising as he'd hoped.

"I disagree," Q murmured against his neck, "I only gave the man fair warning." He expelled a wistful sigh and pressed a hot, lingering kiss to Jean-Luc's nape. "Oh, I missed you."

Jean-Luc bent his neck to Q's busy mouth, shutting his eyes and wrestling against his rapidly building arousal. "I was only gone for two months," he argued.

"Longest two months of my life," Q groaned, his hands roaming Jean-Luc's back.

"Don't exaggerate," Jean-Luc chuckled.

"I would never!" Q buried his face in the bend of Jean-Luc's shoulder, breathing in deeply. "You still smell like sand," he observed. "It suits you."

" _Really_ , Q. I'm filthy. I haven't had a shower since I got back." 

Q groaned with longing. "Sometimes I think you say these things just to wind me up."

"Well then allow me to change the subject," Jean-Luc pried Q off of him, hopping off the desk to stand on his own two vaguely unsteady feet and readjust his rumpled clothing, "Did you come all the way here to just jump all over me? In my message I mentioned I would stop by your place later, if you had the time."

"I always have the time for you," Q teased, turning his attention to Jean-Luc's desk and the items sprawled out over it. He picked up one of the dustier books and flipped it open, running a finger down the length of the exposed page. "'Later' was too long, so I thought I'd stop by and say hello." He shot Jean-Luc a curious expression. "Am I being too clingy?"

Jean-Luc laughed through his nose. "No. I'm glad to see you. I just wish you hadn't kicked Professor Soong out of my office."

"My apologies. Next time I'll ask him if he wants to stay and watch."

"Good lord, Q."

"Did you bring me back anything fun?"

Jean-Luc reached into his bag, fishing around in it for only a moment before pulling out a round, heavy object wrapped in felt. "Depends on your definition of fun," he said, delivering it to Q's waiting hands. Q peeled his prize out of the carefully wrapped cloth, revealing a rough, mottled stone streaked with deep blue. "Lapis lazuli," Jean-Luc explained as Q turned the stone over in his hands, "there weren't exactly any gift shops within hiking distance, but lapis is a fairly common find on these digs. Sorry if it's a bit… well, boring."

"Boring," Q repeated the word in a hushed voice, as though it were something offensive. He shook his head, re-wrapping the stone and holding it tightly in one hand. "I wasn't actually expecting you to have brought me back anything."

Jean-Luc perked a brow, his brow pinching in confusion. "You  _asked_."

"I know, but I didn't actually expect anything!" Q exclaimed. "You brought me back a gift. That means you were  _thinking_ about me."

"Is that… unusual?" Jean-Luc asked. "We've been seeing each other for five months now. Of course I was thinking about you. And might I add, it's only a  _rock_ , Q." Never mind the fact that Jean-Luc spent an absurd amount of time finding a suitable specimen to bring back, and a fair bit of additional time worrying if Q would even like something so plain as a rock from Mecca. "Surely you've been given a  _gift_ before."

Q went suspiciously quiet, staring at the cloth-wrapped rock in his hand with a tense jaw. Jean-Luc felt very much like the wind had just been knocked from his lungs and he wanted to kick himself. Whenever the subject of 'before' arose - that is, the time before  _right now_  - Q wasn't very forthcoming. The usual talk of family and upbringing and childhood were subjects Q preferred left alone. Early in their relationship Q made it known, rather flippantly, that he had no memories of his early life. No parents, no education, no hometown. He joked that he'd merely "appeared", blinked into existence, but never bothered to elaborate. Jean-Luc wasn't certain if Q was telling the truth or simply trying to keep things close to the chest, but either way it wasn't his intention to push him or force him to talk when he clearly didn't want to. Perhaps in time.

"I like it very much," Q finally said, his expression difficult to read. "I don't quite know what to say."

Jean-Luc's chest surged with sudden longing. "You generally say 'thank you'," he said fondly. Q turned, pressing a kiss to Jean-Luc's mouth.

"Thank you." He pulled a deep breath through his nose. "So. Plans for the rest of the day?"

Jean-Luc grinned at him. "I'm quite jet-lagged, actually. I was going to head home and take a nap before visiting you."

"Nap at my house," Q suggested, but it sounded more like a plea. "I promise I'll let you sleep as long as you like and wake you up whenever you please."

As much as Jean-Luc loved the comfortability and familiarity of his own bed, Q's invitation sounded infinitely more enticing. He pecked Q's mouth gently, raking his fingers through Q's floofy hair, relief coursing through him. There was no wall between them after all. "That sounds wonderful."

.

.

.

Jean-Luc proposed in the Spring. He'd suggested they take a stroll to that odd little park beside the lake where they'd shared their first real conversation and a bottle of wine, and although Q insisted he hadn't been surprised one little bit, he still blinked away tears when Jean-Luc slid the ring onto his finger.

They were married in the Fall, a very private ceremony held in the Picard vineyards to a small gathering of Picard's family and close colleagues. Jean-Luc  _never_ danced, it was something of a life-long resolution of his, but that night he danced with Q until midnight, though toward the end it was less of a dance and more of a slow, intimate series of steps to music. The lights strung up among the grapevines looked like the fireflies he'd seen more than a year ago over the lake where they'd talked, and later where he proposed, where their lives together began twice over.

The idea of a honeymoon never made much sense to Jean-Luc, but Q had dozens of ideas and absolutely no time for Jean-Luc's skepticism. After much deliberation they decided on Bali: Jean-Luc loved Indonesia and Q wanted beaches and seclusion, so it seemed the ideal choice. Despite Q's insistence that they vacation somewhere within walking distance of a beach, they inarguably spent the majority of their time in the bedroom of their hilltop villa.

Jean-Luc couldn't find fault with that, really, so when their honeymoon was over and they returned home to France with enough fond memories to possibly last him several lifetimes, he had to admit that honeymoons weren't as pointless as he'd once thought.

.

.

.

"So, which of us gets carried over the threshold?" Q asked quizzically as he stood beside Jean-Luc on the front step of the bungalow. Jean-Luc slipped the key into the front door, laughing through his nose, surprised at how quickly his heart was beating.

"I wouldn't know, but I invite you to try," he chuckled, pushing the door open.

Both of them watched the reveal of the entrance room in silent awe - silly, really, considering they'd seen every room of the house many times, but there was something different and final now that they owned the place - and when the door finally came to a steady stop, both of them exhaled a soft breath.

" _Our_  house," Q said in wonder. Jean-Luc hummed in response. "You know, I might really be serious about you, Professor. I'm getting a funny feeling that I might be sticking around here for a while."

"At least fifteen years, if the bank has anything to say about it," Jean-Luc quipped.

"Would this be a bad time to reveal that I'm a con-artist who specializes in marrying, buying houses with, and then ditching my witless victims?" Q sought out Jean-Luc's hand and squeezed it gently in his own. "They call me the Ding-Dong Ditcher."

Jean-Luc held Q's hand tightly in his own, turning to stare up at him with a playful grin. "As there is absolutely no financial gain involved, I can only surmise that you derive a sick satisfaction from leaving your victims with emotional baggage and a house that's too big for just one person."

Q leaned in to kiss Jean-Luc softly on the mouth. "How well you know me."

"Q, you're stalling. Eventually we have to walk into our new house."

"We still haven't worked out which of us gets carried over the threshold," Q pointed out. "We only get one shot at this, you know. What will we tell the neighbors?"

Jean-Luc groaned. "I propose we walk through the door at the same time, and be done with it," he said, tugging Q's hand supportively. "We can argue later about who gets to carry whom to the bedroom, if you like."

The trace amounts of nervous reluctance on Q's face cleared, his eyes going round and burning with glorious purpose. "Well what in the world are we waiting for?" he chirped, taking an exaggerated and perfectly synchronized step into the house alongside his husband.

.

.

.

Jean-Luc's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, straining to push a breath through his burning lungs. He gasped for air, a hand over his chest and the other flying up to frantically cover the right side of his face, his skin still stinging residually with the ghosts of his dream, images of metal bits and tubes and wires that once dug into his flesh.

It was a variation of the same dream he'd had dozens of times before. He is the Captain of a ship that sails beyond the stars, travelling at speeds that seem utterly impossible, visiting distant worlds and alien people. The majority of these dreams were nonsensical and vague, but Jean-Luc's "Captain" dreams were like a continuous - albeit slightly broken - narrative that played out like some strange fantasy he never knew he had. He couldn't always maintain clear details upon waking, nor did he particularly want to. The dream that had woken him tonight was especially distressing, something involving a giant cube flying through space, aggressively pursuing his spaceship. As Jean-Luc slowly sat up in bed and fought to catch his breath, his heart beating savagely against his rib cage, he could only wonder why a nondescript black cube would cause him such raw panic.

Jean-Luc glanced at his husband beside him, concerned that he may have woken him with his silly night terror. Fortunately Q had always been a rather sound sleeper. The sight of him rolled on his side, his breathing slow and steady with sleep relaxed Jean-Luc almost instantly. No matter how many times he saw Q in sleep's quiet embrace it always seemed strange and alien to him, though he wasn't entirely certain why. Part of it had to be how utterly vulnerable Q looked while he slept; that small crease of his brow, his full lips slightly parted to issue those gentle breaths. When he'd first met Q he couldn't have imagined him looking so tranquil, so defenseless. Now he saw that sight nearly every day, but it became no less fascinating or endearing.

Elements of his dream were prodding the back of his mind, niggling uncomfortably in the cracks of his memory. He thought he could hear Q's voice speaking to him there, dark and mocking, an echo of a strange fantasy. Jean-Luc leaned over to press his mouth gently against Q's temple. A soft sound of contentment left Q's lips though he remained firmly asleep.

Dreams were just dreams. They were often best left alone.

.

.

.

" _Agh_ , dammit!" Jean-Luc pulled his hand away from the underbrush, internally chastising himself for not wearing his gardening gloves. He shook out his hand, feeling the painful, bumpy rash beginning to raise on his skin.

Jean-Luc wasn't an obsessive gardener but his upbringing had left him with very little tolerance for weeds. Around the edge of their house there had been a sudden insurgence of stinging nettle, and oftentimes when Jean-Luc was being nitpicky with the rest of the garden, the nettles caught him by surprise. It happened with such annoying frequency that aloe vera cream had lately become a staple in their household.

"Not  _again_ ," came Q's voice, appearing beside Jean-Luc to scoop up his injured hand, bringing it close to his face to observe the forming rash. "These weeds have it in for you, darling."

"Their incorrigible," Jean-Luc grunted. "It's like a plague."

"You should wash that before it gets worse."

"Yes, yes. And then I'm coming back out here with gloves and shears to deliver some sorely deserved revenge."

"I  _love_ it when you're filled with plant-fueled vengeance," Q purred, playfully swatting his husband's rear as the two of them piled inside the house. "I'll fetch the cream, shall I?"

The cool water from the kitchen sink soothed the sting magnificently. Jean-Luc carefully washed the inflamed area, turning the tap off only when Q appeared with the container of cream. Jean-Luc gently dried his hand and reached for the container, but Q leveled him a no-nonsense stare and snatched up his injured hand, preparing the cream. "I'll do it."

There was a fond thrum in Jean-Luc's chest as he watched Q take a dollop of cream on two of his fingers and carefully spread it over the rash, his brow set in determination. He never tired of this, of the small moments that meant so much because they meant so little. Jean-Luc never considered himself a man of great romantic sentiment before he'd met Q, but now these sorts of thoughts ran through his mind with alarming frequency. He watched Q's focused eyes as he gently rubbed the cooling cream over his hand, overcome with the strange desire to sense what Q was thinking, to join their thoughts together somehow, to know the parts of Q that Q himself was not acquainted with. The depth of that sort of intimacy was frightening, but the concept seemed familiar. Sometimes he almost felt like their relationship was lacking that fantastical fictional bond, which usually prompted him to stomp out those ridiculous ideas and focus on something else.

"There." Q smoothed his hand over Jean-Luc's creamed and lightly bandaged hand. "Good as new. Now how about you stop poking your hands in places meant for shovels and weed-whackers?"

Jean-Luc grinned, fluff and sentiment still knocking around in his thoughts. He pulled his husband in for a kiss, deep and abiding, to which Q responded without restraint. In moments they were up against the kitchen counter. This sort of impulsive romantic whim was also something Jean-Luc never thought he could become fond of, but over the last three years this kind of behavior had become overwhelmingly natural to him.

As Q's knee found its way stealthily between his legs, Jean-Luc leaned back against the counter, his elbow striking something smooth that skidded noisily along the tile and spilled cool liquid over his arm. They pulled apart, turning their attention to the counter where a beautifully slim crystalline vase was wobbling dangerously near the edge. Q's hand shot out to catch it, pushing it nearer to the wall.

"Close one," Q hummed, lowering his head to kiss and nip at Jean-Luc's neck.

Jean-Luc tilted his head back, but his eyes were still glued on the vase. Nestled inside the slim glass flute was a single purple flower with bold yellow stripes running up its wide petals and a strong green stem covered in soft bristles. The sight of it stirred something powerful in Jean-Luc, something he couldn't identify, as if for a fleeting moment he was the Captain from his dreams, arguing with someone about that flower in his starship quarters.

"Q, what is that flower?" he asked softly, gesturing vaguely at the vase. "Where did it come from?"

Q was mapping a path along Jean-Luc's jaw, sucking gently at the skin under his ear. "Lovely, isn't it?" he purred. "I saw it on my way home. Thought perhaps you'd like it."

"No, I meant the breed. What is it called?" The hot lips on his jaw worked diligently back down to his neck, nibbling sweetly over his throat, slowly unraveling Jean-Luc's interest in anything other than heading to the bedroom with haste.

"I haven't the foggiest," Q admitted, his voice rumbling against Jean-Luc's skin.

" _Abiding redamancy._ " Jean-Luc said suddenly, almost involuntarily, like he'd remembered the name of something he'd long forgotten, though he was sure he'd never seen a flower like that in his life. "I'm not sure why, but I- Q?"

Q pulled away very suddenly with a pained hiss through his teeth. He anchored his hands on Jean-Luc's shoulders and Jean-Luc reflexively grabbed his arms, realizing with concern that Q was using him as a support to keep himself standing upright.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"Yes," Q's voice was mildly breathy and his eyes were screwed shut. "Headache."

"So suddenly?" Jean-Luc asked him seriously. "Come sit down, I'll get you something."

Q rubbed his forehead crossly as Jean-Luc led him to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. "I'm fine, I don't need-"

"It wasn't a suggestion," Jean-Luc said, motioning to the chair with a perfunctory gesture. "Sit."

Q shot him a stubborn frown, winced in discomfort, then offered a half-hearted eye roll before plopping down into the aforementioned chair. He held his head in his hand as Jean-Luc crossed the room to grab a rag to run under cool water.

"You've been getting these headaches more frequently," Jean-Luc observed, handing the makeshift compress to Q for his forehead. "I think you ought to schedule a-"

"Don't you say it," Q warned weakly, pressing the cool rag against his head. "You know very well that I am allergic to doctors, nurses, and all variations of medically trained professionals. It's a chronic - and very real - condition."

Jean-Luc's only reply was a groan.

"Headaches are hardly a cause for concern." Q continued as Jean-Luc stepped out of the room to fetch pain pills. "The pain is practically gone now, anyway." 

"That sounds very much like a cause for concern. The fact that the pain is so fleeting is what worries me the most," Jean-Luc called from the other room.

"Nonsense. It's probably just stress. Business has been hectic lately."

"You? Stressed?  _Ha_." Jean-Luc reappeared, pulling the cap off the bottle and emptying a pair of brown pills into his palm. He offered them to Q with a glass of water and then pulled out a chair to sit at the table. "Work-related stress implies that you do actual  _work_ , and to my knowledge, lounging around in your office for several hours avoiding your staff and reading raunchy detective novels doesn't quite qualify. You'll have to try harder than that to convince me."

Q side-eyed him, swallowing his pills with slight difficulty. He took another gulp of water and sighed deeply. "Tell me, who does one call when their husband is being an insensitive meanie?"

"Insensitive, perhaps. Accurate, most definitely." Jean-Luc grinned and leaned in to kiss Q gently on the mouth.

.

.

.

"Professor!"

The clack of flats against vinyl flooring and a persistent shout stopped Jean-Luc's progress toward the front doors of the hall. For a horrible moment he considered continuing on as if he hadn't heard; he'd had a long few days, and he'd been rather determined to get dinner started before Q's shift at the restaurant ended. Since there was no way he'd actually do something so impertinent as that, Jean-Luc stopped and turned to see Amanda Rogers hurrying his way, her normally perfectly styled bun slightly disheveled, her round face flushed pink. She had the distinct look of poorly-concealed panic, which alarmed Picard enough to forget the urgency of dinner.

She skidded to a stop in front of him, not pausing to catch her breath, her eyes large and imploring. "Professor, I need to speak with you. Alone." She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. "It's urgent."

"Is everything alright?" Jean-Luc asked in concern.

"Yes, well, no, but…" Amanda heaved a heavy sigh. "Can we speak in your office?"

Before he'd seen the look on Amanda's face Jean-Luc might have politely refused or asked for an abridged version so that he might be on his way, but her adamant insistence quickly changed his mind. Jean-Luc patted her shoulder and started them off down the hall and a flight of stairs to his office, where he opened the door for her and gently ushered her inside. Jean-Luc went to his desk and sat down, motioning for her to steal the seat on the other side. Amanda eyed the chair, rubbed her arm and shook her head. She looked almost skittish.

"I'd… rather stand," she said. Jean-Luc frowned but said nothing. Amanda sighed and began pacing in front of the desk, her eyes glued to the ceiling as if searching for the right words. It felt as though the roles were somehow reversed, like Jean-Luc had inadvertently been sat down for a lecture. After a time, Amanda came to a decisive stop behind the chair she'd declined to sit on, folding her hands tightly together behind her back. "Professor, this isn't going to be easy to say. Or hear. But I need you to hear me out,  _really_ hear me out. Please."

Jean-Luc wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that. His frown deepened, partly in confusion, partly in concern.

"Of course," he said, as calmly as he was able.

Amanda sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There are things you need to know, things that you aren't supposed to know yet but if I wait any longer, it might be too late. So I'm going to ease into this as gently as I can, because I don't want to hurt you if I can help it."

"Ms. Rogers, did Mr. Janeway set you up to this?" Jean-Luc asked suspiciously.

"Have you ever felt misplaced?" Amanda barreled on, her expression grave. "Like you don't really belong here, like you're meant to be somewhere else?"

Jean-Luc sighed and leaned back in his chair, some of his concern melting away. Whatever was wrong, it didn't seem to be as urgent as she'd made it sound. "I don't know what you mean."

Amanda's brows dipped in apparent turmoil. She took a moment to reconsider her phrasing. "Another life." she said, squaring her shoulders. "Have you ever thought of another version of you, the same but different? In a dream, maybe?"

Something clicked uncomfortably in Jean-Luc's mind, accompanied by fuzzy memories of that strange ship flying through black space. He shook those thoughts away. Everyone had dreams like that, other versions of themselves living other lives. That was the nature of dreams.

"Is this for a psychology exam? Philosophy perhaps?"

"No, this is about  _you_ ," Amanda said seriously. "I need you to think! That other version of you, what does he do? Where does he go, what does he see?"

Images and ideas from his dreams prodded at his mind in a cobbled, impatient mess of nonsense, as though they were trying to burst out of his mind and answer Amanda's strange inquiries themselves. Words began to surface, places and people, none of them familiar but they were  _straining_ to be familiar, fighting to be heard. Jean-Luc couldn't make heads or tails of it. His mind was at war with itself, trying to press down the emerging information just as adamantly as it was trying to pull it free.

Before Jean-Luc realized what he was doing he was rising from his chair, planting his hands on his desk to anchor himself, feeling strangely light-headed. In a moment the sensation had passed. Amanda watched him with a hopeful grimace.

Jean-Luc gained his composure and absently straightened his tie, trying desperately to steady his breathing through his nose. "Ms. Rogers, if nothing's wrong, I don't have the time to spare today. I have about fifty exams to mark." He moved around the desk and gestured for Amanda to head for the door. Her round eyes became rounder and she shook her head, reaching for his arm and gripping his sleeve.

"No, Captain, you have to listen to me-"

" _Captain_?" Jean-Luc's mind protested strongly against that word.

"Please just hear me out! There isn't much time left-"

A loud, brisk knocking sounded at the door. It was the sort of knocking that somehow elicited feelings of worry and panic and the freezing certainty that something had gone very wrong.

"Come," Jean-Luc called. The door was flung open and a wide-eyed Professor La Forge burst in, his dark eyes falling immediately on Jean-Luc with partial relief.

"Professor, thank  _god_ you haven't left yet!" Geordi panted. "There's a call for you, it's the hospital. Your husband collapsed at work, they want you down there!"

Jean-Luc had never been suddenly and unexpectedly dunked into a tank of ice-cold water, but he supposed it felt a hell of a lot like this. Sound and sight were far away, blurred at the edges, but somewhere beside him he thought he could hear a soft  _oh, no_  from Amanda. Before his senses could abandon him completely, Jean-Luc was pushing past Geordi and flying down the hallway, heedless of how Amanda called after him.

.

.

.

Jean-Luc arrived at the hospital in record time, his chest burning like fire, blood pounding in his ears. Dragging ragged breaths through his throat he clambered to the reception desk, demanding to see Q, to talk to anyone who could tell him what was going on. Very quickly he was meeting with a doctor who promptly asked him to "-sit down and take a moment, please, before I have to admit you too."

The doctor explained the situation as best she understood it. According to an employee, Q complained of a headache shortly before he'd collapsed, and an ambulance was immediately called. There was no emergency, she assured him. Though they couldn't discern the cause of Q's sudden loss of consciousness, he didn't appear to be ill, and he'd woken shortly before Jean-Luc had arrived. Exhaustion was the most common diagnosis, she said.

A horrible tightness lifted from Jean-Luc's lungs, reminding him that he hadn't been breathing, not  _really_ breathing ever since Geordi burst into his office with the news. For a moment he lay his face in his hands to exhale a deep, calming breath, willing his heart rate down to an acceptable level before asking to see his husband.

Seeing Q sitting up awake and alert was a tremendous relief, but the sight of him in a hospital bed with a tube trailing from his hand to an IV filled with sickly-colored liquid - no matter how well he appeared - seemed wildly wrong. It constricted Jean-Luc's throat in the worst way. He forced himself to swallow as he entered the small hospital room, met immediately by Q's dark eyes, wide and unmistakably ashamed. Q offered him a sideways smile that was as dismissing as it was apologetic.

"Look at you," Q groaned, "good lord, did you  _run_ all the way here? You look awful."

Jean-Luc was still too euphoric to care about Q's usual jabs. He stood beside the bed and pulled Q's hand into his, clasping it tightly. "You must be feeling well if you're mouthing off," he grumbled with a soft smile.

"They won't let me leave! I  _told_ them they were all making a big deal out of absolutely nothing, but they refused to see reason." Q protested, his eyes darting around the room as though he were devising a plan of escape. He turned his head to meet Jean-Luc's eyes with a softer expression. "And they even dragged you away from the university for such a  _ridiculous_ thing."

"It's not ridiculous, Q, you  _collapsed_. And you're not leaving until they run a couple more tests to make sure you're alright."

Q huffed and looked away. "I'm fine, Jean-Luc. I'm not the first man to ever  _faint_ , surely."

"They mentioned you had another headache," Jean-Luc pointed out, squeezing Q's hand a little more tightly. "You've been having lots of headaches lately. Too many. I'd prefer they thoroughly check you out to make sure there isn't some underlying issue."

"I just want to go home." Q sighed moodily.

Jean-Luc raised Q's hand to his mouth, pressing a long kiss to his knuckles. "We will. Until then, I'll be right here to keep you from harassing the hard working staff."

Q's shoulders slumped somewhat. "Sorry for the scare," he muttered in a small voice.

"Don't you dare apologize. I'm just relieved you're alright."

Firmly disregarding Q's protests, Jean-Luc informed the visiting nurse of Q's headaches, which of course prompted the nurse to grab the doctor for an extended session of medical Q&A that Q was blatantly resolute in sabotaging. The doctor seemed undisturbed by Q's stubbornness, leaving the room with Q's incredibly sparse medical history on her clipboard and the promise of a CT scan before Q could receive the all-clear to go home. Despite Q's best attempt to weasel his way out of it, Jean-Luc walked him to the emergency wing with the nurses, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before Q was led inside.

Once he was left to his own devices it was as though every muscle in Jean-Luc's body collectively dissolved to soup. He was tired and he was anxious and he so badly wanted to get Q out of this place and back to the comfort of their own home. He wanted to know for certain that Q was alright. Hospitals didn't suit him. No -  _weakness_ didn't suit him. From the moment Jean-Luc met Q he never imagined he could succumb to illness or strife of any kind, and as such he'd never imagined anything like this could ever happen. He wished he'd explored the possibility, at least  _once_. It might have made this whole situation less heart-wrenching.

Or maybe it wouldn't have.

He needed coffee. Lots of coffee. Jean-Luc returned to the lobby, following the potent aroma of instant coffee and bagged tea that floated to him from beyond the vending machines. The lobby was bare, only a lone receptionist reading a book and a pair of middle-aged women chatting quietly by the magazine racks on the far side of the room. A small visitor room branched off the main lobby, effectively ending Jean-Luc's search for espresso. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jean-Luc pushed his way inside, the door creaking closed behind him. He was alone, only a white table littered with coffee stains and magazines and a few chairs for company, which suited him just fine.

As he grabbed one of the off-white mugs and prepared a coffee bag, the door behind him clicked as though someone had stealthily entered the room behind him. For a moment Jean-Luc mourned the loss of his potential solitude, but he wasn't given long to dwell on it. Someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around. His surprised eyes met the round, vaguely apologetic eyes of Amanda Rogers, her lips pinched together thinly, her hand still firm on Jean-Luc's shoulder. Just behind her, Quenton Janeway stood quietly with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes boring into Jean-Luc's with unnerving focus.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out before Jean-Luc could think to voice his confusion. "We really can't wait any longer."

The floor dropped away. Picard fell through it, his breath fleeing his lungs, his hands reaching up to grab for something,  _anything_ to hold onto. There was nothing. Nothing but cold, endless space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a heck of a thing to write. It was also one of my favorites, but booooy was it time consuming. I can't tell you how many scenes were endlessly rewritten until I was happy with it all lol
> 
> All will be answered in the next chapter, (well... things pertaining to the current situation in which they have found themselves lol) so it’s THEORY TIME. Lay ‘em on me while you still can! So many of you were reaaaally close to the root of it, I’ll bet you can figure out the gist of what’s going on now :3
> 
> Those of you who can see the eclipse today, keep those eyes safe! I'm about to head out to get a look at it. (with special glasses of course!)


	11. Chapter 11

The pain was indescribable. Jean-Luc felt as though his mind had been cracked open and stuffed with an insurmountable number of pointy things only to be sealed up again and shaken. He was nowhere, spinning, directionless, no longer attached to the world he recognized as his own. His senses were painted black, all but his ability to feel pain, the horrible agony of an imploding skull and a screaming brain.

It lasted for only a brief moment but it felt as though it dragged on for an eternity. Eventually the pain faded to a low roar, inviting a soft pinprick of light into his narrow field of vision. The point of light became wider, rounder, and then it became a flood. Jean-Luc was assaulted by memories of a life he didn't know - no, he knew,  _he knew_ , how did he know? - a life that began much like his own life but took a drastic turn somewhere in his youth, leading him beyond the stars. He could barely understand what he was seeing. Starships and aliens, distant worlds, interstellar wars, travelling through time and occasionally dimension. It didn't seem possible, it seemed ludicrous, but it was as real as his life with Q in La Barre.

 _Q_. Oh god, where was Q? Was he still at the hospital? Was he even  _real_? In this strange universe where Jean-Luc was the Captain of a starship, was Q there with him? The memories and images rearranged themselves to show Jean-Luc the object of his anxieties. The realization came crashing down over him, making his disembodied stomach feel sick. Farpoint. His first mission as Captain of the  _Enterprise_.

 _Thou art notified that thy kind hath infiltrated the galaxy too far already_.  _Thou art directed to return to thine own solar system immediately_.

Q, it was Q, dressed in that ridiculous medieval outfit, arriving at that point in time to set in motion the chain of events that would inevitably lead Jean-Luc here, to this place where he had no physicality, a place where he existed only as a receptacle to receive a lifetime's worth of memories that were his but not his.

Jean-Luc Picard's life in the 24th century slid neatly into his mind as though it had never left. He remembered everything, his ship, his crew, the hundreds of missions he'd seen through in his life. Every bar room brawl, every failed relationship, every set-back and every success. His Captaincy of the  _Stargazer_. His assimilation into the Borg. All the scars that made him whole came back together, bringing with them suffering and comfort in equal measure. It was an odd sensation, not wholly disagreeable, though a dull pain echoed in his mind, like a fresh gash that had finally stopped bleeding but still needed to be mended.

He tried to focus on the here and now. His life in La Barre as Jean-Luc Picard the professor of archaeology, the simple man who never dreamed of a life beyond the stars, the married man who had been planning to return home to cook dinner for his husband, Q, a man he loved more than life itself.

Oh, god.

None of it was real. Not a single shred of their time together in this place was authentic. This was their Dixon Hill adventure, but grandly amplified so that his real memories were so heavily buried he'd almost never unearthed them. How long had they been in this place? Days? Years? The passage of time had felt so natural, so real. On that end, it wasn't like the manufactured San Francisco at all. When he was Dixon, his memories of being Jean-Luc were still there, still accessible, they simply didn't take priority. He had memories of Dixon's life but he knew they weren't his. Everything here in La Barre felt completely real, every moment. It bore a striking similarity to the Nexus but more effective, not just some mindless force misinterpreting his desire for family or extrapolating on his fear of compromising the Picard family line. This was the sort of peace he craved, the family he truly longed for.

The thought of family struck a melancholy chord within him. Robert and Rene were alive here. They were alive and he could visit them if he so desired, but how could he now? They weren't real, none of it was real. Not La Barre, not the university, not even their little bungalow nestled on the outer edge of the city.

All this time, did some part of him long for a simple life with Q? White picket fence, a little garden, quiet nights by the fire? Or was it Q who had imposed such a domestic idea? Both of them, perhaps?

Jean-Luc was given no time to think on it further. With a sickening lurch he was pulled down, down, until he landed -  _hard._  His body heaved with a gasping breath and his eyes popped open only to be flooded with artificial light. There was a hand on his shoulder gripping him tightly, and when the world came back into focus he realized he was still somehow standing upright. Amanda was in front of him - oh good lord,  _Amanda Rogers, all this time_  - her round eyes watching him with plain horrified concern.

"Captain Picard? Are you with me, are you okay?"

His knees felt shaky. Jean-Luc opened his mouth to reply but couldn't summon his voice, so he settled for a stiff nod as Amanda gently steered him to the table, helping him to sit. Sitting across from him was Quenton, his fingers knitted together to make a platform for his chin, his eyes focused sharply on Jean-Luc with more curiosity than concern.

"Captain Picard," Amanda pulled up a chair, sitting so close their knees were touching, "I'm  _so sorry_. You have to understand, this was our last resort. I never intended to force the memories back into you, I wanted to wait until you'd recalled enough on your own to attempt it. But we couldn't wait any longer." She moved her hand as if to brace Jean-Luc's arm but thought better of it. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

Jean-Luc rubbed his forehead, trying to will strength and feeling back into his limbs. His skull was still throbbing, making it difficult to think. "Ms. Rog- Amanda. What the devil is going on?" Each word sent shooting pain rocketing through Jean-Luc's mind, pulling an unwitting groan from him before he could continue. "Where are we? What is all of this, and why are you here with…?" he glanced over at Quenton questioningly. The young man offered him a disturbingly familiar smirk.

"Q," he answered. "You can keep calling me Quenton, if it's less confusing for you."

"We're still in the hospital," Amanda explained gently. "I've stopped time so that we might have an opportunity to talk about what's happened."

"Q?" Jean-Luc asked, confident that other Q could easily discern which Q he was referring to, "How is he? Did he create this place, did he deliberately make me forget? Or was it the Continuum?" Asking it out loud caused Jean-Luc's stomach to flop in distress. "Is it just me and Q here, or was everyone displaced?"

Amanda frowned in obvious concern. "Uhm, well. It's complicated, Captain, but I'll tell you everything we know so far."

"Which frankly isn't much," Quenton put in.

"You and Q are the only  _real_  inhabitants of this world." Amanda began firmly. "Q isn't any more aware of what's really going on here than you were a few minutes ago. He created this world and he's been sustaining it for the two of you alone." She appeared to consider her next words carefully. "I don't know if it was his intention to make you forget your life, or his own. I think it was more of a… symptom. We can't be sure."

Jean-Luc frowned. "A symptom? Of what?"

"Of his emotional state. I'm only speculating here, but I think he created this place to protect you. It backfired, obviously, because without his memories, the Continuum will eventually find a way to break in."

Jean-Luc's mind was still far too foggy to process everything he was hearing. "I find it hard to believe that a single Q could create a place so impregnable that the Continuum couldn't simply wish their way inside."

"It isn't that they can't get in, it's that they  _won't_  get in," Quenton explained with a sigh. "Initially they sent a couple of Q to investigate, but every attempted breach only closed up the dimension tighter, so they quickly stopped trying. Q is dangerously unstable without his memories. One wrong move and  _boom_! there goes half the quadrant. Big ol' hole in space-time. There was talk about what should be done, but in the end, the Continuum decided to let this play itself out. They're curious." He leaned forward, like he was telling a secret. "If you ask me, I think they're gonna use the results of this development to determine their verdict."

"You don't know for certain?" Jean-Luc asked, his brain still thumping painfully against his skull.

Quenton leaned back, knitting his fingers over his stomach. "We've been cut off from the Continuum ever since we came here."

Amanda squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. "What's the last thing you remember before you ended up here, Captain?" she asked.

This was a question that required some serious deliberation. Although he felt confident he had all of his memories back, the bulk of them still seemed haphazard and rearranged. It was difficult to recall the order of events that had brought him here to this world, to this life. He sifted through the mess and recalled the attempted attack on the starbase, the attack that Q reversed. He remembered their promise to discuss things later that night, a discussion that never happened. He didn't see Q again until-

"Admiral Danvers," Jean-Luc said suddenly. "I was speaking with him in my ready room. He was saying such ridiculous things, and then Q appeared…" He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, the memories causing a pang of pain in his temples. "He was a mess. He'd overheard our conversation, I believe, and was in a panic. He was trying to shield my mind from the chaos but something broke through. I lost consciousness."

Amanda popped her fist into her hand with a soft 'ah-hah'. "I was  _wondering_ what triggered it," she whispered in the wondering tone of voice he was so accustomed to hearing in his class. Oh good lord, he was an  _archaeology professor_. Grading term papers suddenly felt a million years away. "As far as we can tell, Q moved the both of you into this pocket dimension after that incident. He closed up the space so well, we almost couldn't find you."

"How  _did_ you find us? And why? What's going to happen to Q if we can't get him out of here?" The slew of questions squeezed the breath from his lungs. Jean-Luc lowered his head into his hand, shielding his eyes from the violently spinning room. This time, Amanda's hand found Jean-Luc's arm and held onto him tightly.

"Take it easy," she gently instructed. "We'll try and answer all of your questions, I swear, but you need to relax. It's mind-boggling that you're even conscious after what I've put you through."

"I'll relax once you tell me how to put a stop to all this," Jean-Luc forced out.

"Quit babying him, Q. The man wants answers." Quenton said, leaving his chair to sit himself on the edge of the table. He grabbed up one of the magazines and began idly flipping through it. "Answers we unfortunately don't have, or else we wouldn't be  _having_  this conversation."

Jean-Luc stared evenly at Quenton, momentarily distracted by the unavoidable fact that he was meeting Q's - for lack of a better word -  _son_ for the first time. And he was meeting him in a hospital in an alternative version of France while feeling more nauseous than he'd ever felt in his life. This was not how he expected to be introduced to his lover's proverbial offspring, but Q-related matters rarely followed sensible etiquette.

"How did you two get in?" Jean-Luc asked.

"We tried a passive approach," Amanda answered. "By integrating ourselves into the world and assuming human identities, without using our powers, we went completely unnoticed."

"We won't go unnoticed for much longer if Q catches wind of our little time trick," Quenton pointed out, tossing the magazine carelessly back on the table.

"We have at least ten more minutes before we have to worry about that," Amanda shot back.

Jean-Luc distinctly felt like ten minutes wasn't going to be nearly enough time to sort out this mess. "What will happen if Q discovers you?" he shook his head, confused. "Or perhaps, how can he discover you if he isn't even aware of what's happening?"

"He's aware on some level." Quenton said. "It's subconscious, we think. Latent. Some part of him is keeping this place running and keeping out intrusions."

"The headaches?" Jean-Luc asked quickly, quietly.

"We don't know for sure, but I think he's overextending himself." Amanda's voice trailed off awkwardly, casting her gaze down at her hands, "Q has locked his memories away so tightly that his powers are working almost independently of him. Whenever something threatens the dimension's natural order, he has to unconsciously compensate for the breach, and I believe it's possible the stress of it is affecting the human identity he's created."

Jean-Luc's mind flashed to the moment in their kitchen when he'd remembered the name of their flower, the beautiful purple hybrid that had brought them together in their real lives. The worst of Q's headaches started then, the moment a thread of the false world had come undone in his mind. Every dream, every pebble of nostalgia threatened the fabric of Q's world and more importantly, Q's consciousness.

"So what do we do?" Jean-Luc asked, rubbing his hands over his face. "How do we restore his memories and get out of this place?" The mutual, awkward silence that filled the room was answer enough. Picard let out a long-suffering breath. "In all of the Continuum, not one of you has come up with a solution?" The silence continued. "A  _theory,_ at least?"

"This has never happened before," Amanda explained, her hands extra animated. "A Q has never been able to repel the Continuum in this particular way, or become so dangerously unstable. This is just a working theory, but I believe it might have something to do with…" The way her eyes turned up and glided meaningfully along Jean-Luc's person caused Jean-Luc's brow to scrunch into a frown.

"Me?" he asked her, his chest constricting in guilt.

" _Ding ding ding_ , tell him what he's won," Quenton answered wryly. Amanda shot him a fleeting, icy look - that Quenton subtly shrank beneath, Jean-Luc noted - before turning her attention back to Picard.

"After almost three years of observing you in here - as best I could without my powers, that is, I believe you're an equal partner in the creation of this world," she said gently. "Just like Q, your influence was involuntary, likely a side-effect of your- uhm, I'm unsure what to call it. Link? Connection?"

He should have assumed their steadily strengthening bond would have exacerbated the situation in some form or another, but it was hard for him to accept he'd been just as responsible for the subconscious construction of this world, this life.  _White picket fence_. He was beginning to believe that he had, in fact, been the source of this domestic scenario, this simple idea of marriage and family.

Jean-Luc waved away those thoughts in favor of the slightly more pressing matter at hand. "You still haven't explained where exactly your theory leaves me."

Amanda balled her hands in her lap, squeezing the material of her plaid skirt between her fingers. "Q is like an overloading warp core right now, if we try and retrieve his memories like we did for you, he could - and likely would - quite literally explode."

"And take half of the quadrant with him," Junior reminded unhelpfully. Jean-Luc leveled him a look that he hoped properly conveyed his distaste for over-stating the obvious.

Amanda continued on as if Junior hadn't spoken. "Given your bond with Q, I think the best way forward is for you to try and get through to him."

Jean-Luc found that he felt wildly uncomfortable discussing the 'bond' he shared with Q with a third party, even if that third party was Q herself. Up until now, it had been almost a secret between them, something deeply personal and intimate. Deanna knew, but only because she'd picked up a second consciousness within Jean-Luc's mind several weeks after their first joining and privately inquired about it, concerned that Picard was under some strange alien influence. Not an entirely inaccurate statement, all things considered, but he set her straight all the same.

Jean-Luc finally regained suitable strength in his limbs to allow himself to stand. He paced away from the table, a hand over his mouth and the other hanging on his hip, trying to accept what Amanda was suggesting. An alarming thought struck him. "Good lord, what will happen when I leave this room, with my memories intact? If Q is able to sense me - if I force Q's memories free with my own - won't that have the same disastrous effect?"

Amanda adamantly shook her head, her hands springing up again to resume their lively gestures. "It won't take much effort for us to suppress your end of the bond. I don't think Q will notice such an unobtrusive use of our powers. At least, I  _hope_  not."

Jean-Luc's stomach flopped in disappointment. Even now, his consciousness felt like it was straining against his skull, reaching out for Q's, grasping desperately at something that simply wasn't there. Even in the Dixon Hill reality he hadn't felt like he was severed from Q, their connection had simply been muted so that neither of them could see what the other was up to, to keep the game fair. Jean-Luc first experienced being severed from Q's mind when Q had gone to see the Continuum days ago - or was it years ago now? - but it hadn't been like this. He'd been so in the dark and consumed with worry at the time that everything else just became additional turmoil. How could he possibly face Q without the feeling of Q's consciousness wrapping around his own? How could he touch him without knowing exactly what that touch felt like, how could he talk to him when words weren't enough?

His own distress frightened him. He hadn't known how pitifully dependent he'd become on such an inhuman intimacy until now, when there were so many more important things to be focusing on. Q's well-being as well as the potential safety of the quadrant was at stake, and somehow he was more presently upset that he no longer had a telepathic link with his alien lover.

Somewhere along the way, Picard's priorities had been reordered. Or perhaps his scrambled memories were to blame for his momentary lack of objectivity. Whatever the reason, he needed to reign in every ounce of his focus to look at the bigger picture. Amanda and Quenton were trying to find a way to resolve the situation without incident, and that was all Jean-Luc wanted, too. He could survive without telepathy for a little while. He'd survived without it for over sixty years.

Jean-Luc stopped just next to the espresso machine, the acrid aroma filling his nose but no longer holding any temptation for him. He wasn't hungry, he wasn't thirsty. He was worried. He was tired. Mostly, he was determined to come up with a plan of action before their sanctioned time in this room ran out.

"Captain?" Amanda's inquisitive voice reminded Jean-Luc that he had been silent for too long. Jean-Luc pulled a deep-rattling breath through his nose that swelled his chest and straightened his shoulders. He turned to regard the young Q with a decidedly firm expression.

"Alright. So let's say I try and get through to him in a way that won't yield the results we've been speculating on. At risk of offending you, Amanda, your attempts to shake my memories free with keywords related to my real life were not terribly successful. Confronting me as you did in my office seemed to elicit a response, but I'm not sure Q would respond well to such a direct approach, if we're meant to be taking things slowly and carefully. How do you suggest I approach this?"

It felt irresponsible asking someone else how to best resolve such a sensitive issue regarding his partner, his lover, his  _husband_ , but now was not the time to let his pride lead him, nor was it the time to disregard the expertise of another Q. There was still so much he didn't know.

"Your guess is as good as ours," Quenton answered with a rare note of sincerity. Jean-Luc's disappointment did not show on his face. "Like we said, this has never happened before."

Amanda slowly rose from her chair, her hands fidgeting at her stomach. "I don't think Q would risk harming you, consciously or unconsciously. You're closer to him than anyone. Quite frankly, if there is anyone in the universe who can diffuse him in this situation, I believe it's you."

There was so much unwavering certainty in her voice that Jean-Luc's neck grew hot and his chest tightened with a mixture of embarrassment, pride and affection. A beat later, he was feeling mild panic, too, a deep fear that Amanda's confidence in him was misplaced. The fact was, he never quite knew how to sooth Q's mind in the rare moments mortal emotion gripped him. In the days leading them to this moment, since the Continuum's first call, Q had been slowly breaking apart. Jean-Luc had been aware of this, and he could accept that much of it was out of his control, but could he have tried harder to reassure him? Should he really have been focusing so much on the ambassador and Danvers when Q clearly needed him?

No, no. He needed to focus. He couldn't crumble now, he couldn't give in to doubt when there was so much on the line. If he had somehow failed to be the presence Q needed him to be before, he had to become that presence now. That was all there was to be done.

"I'll do whatever I can." Jean-Luc said. "Tell me something, before we run out of time. What harm could come to Q, were this not to work? Is he in danger of…" he trailed off when he realized he couldn't say it, couldn't actually acknowledge the possibility of Q's life ending.

The silence that answered him this time was so much more telling than words might have been, but it did not hurt any less.

.

.

.

The next few hours passed in a thick, suffocating haze. Picard was exhausted in every sense of the word. Having his memories returned to him was taxing in ways he'd never considered, leaving him heavy and disjointed and with the distinct impression that he hadn't slept a wink since he'd been born into this strange alternative world decades ago. Amanda and Quenton promised to keep a close eye on things, to keep him abreast of any information or development that may be of help to him. Even though their assistance so far had been tentative at best, Jean-Luc felt a certain amount of relief that he wasn't alone with this information, that he had support from somewhere.

If he allowed himself to sink too far into his thoughts, he couldn't deny how lonely he suddenly felt.

His loneliness was only exacerbated by Q's close proximity. He thought he would be relieved to see Q after all he'd learned, but when he'd gone to see him after his scan he felt a cold numbness sink into his gut, hard and heavy. His mind reached out instinctively for Q's only to be repelled by Amanda's barrier, and Q's eyes no longer shone with the same bone-shaking intensity they'd always held even in his weakest moments. Seeing Q sitting up in a hospital bed, sipping at a glass of water, offering Jean-Luc a quirk of his lips and a huff of relief because "-they're finally done with me, now maybe we can go  _home_ ," seemed to cement it all somehow. Q was human. This world was his own personally crafted Hell, a life he didn't want,  _couldn't_ want. Jean-Luc knew Q feared becoming human again and having his powers stripped away, but here he was, suffering from headaches and drinking water and going about a normal life with a normal job. It was all so obscenely wrong, and it was only now that Jean-Luc realized he'd always known it was wrong, he just hadn't been able to place why.

Jean-Luc pulled himself together as quick as he was able, which was quick enough to avoid concern. He told Q that yes, the doctor said they could check out soon. Yes, they could go home, and yes, there was a distinct possibility that he might have to endure a follow-up if the scan turned up anything concerning. He knew it wouldn't, of course, but he was determined to act as though he didn't know. He had to split himself into two Picards if this vague plan of theirs had any hope of success. The man who Captained the  _Enterprise_  and the man who lived in La Barre with his husband. He couldn't let the two touch. Even knowing that, the Captain in him vibrated impatiently under his skin, longing for his Q, the Q whose eyes blazed with the enormity of the universe's splendor.

He took Q home. He  _wanted_ him home. He didn't ever want to see him in such a mortal, death-drenched place ever again.

"You should sleep," Jean-Luc suggested gently, trying to ignore how exceptionally strange it was to ask Q to do something so offensively human. He smoothed his hand over Q's shoulder as they plopped together on the edge of the bed. "You've had an exhausting day."

Q sighed hugely, casting Jean-Luc a sideways grimace. "Don't you go all mother hen on me now," he said, but despite his objection his voice was soft and gravelly with fatigue. Jean-Luc watched him, his second persona struggling against the heartbreak of seeing Q with slumped shoulders, tired eyes and sore muscles. "I feel like I've been laying down all day."

"Which can make you groggy. Q, you  _collapsed_ today. You need to rest. If you won't listen to the doctor, you can at least listen to your husband."

Husband. The word seemed foreign on his tongue, and in the same moment it left him breathless. An odd sensation. He'd never realized that part of him yearned for such an exclusively mortal joining, not when they were already so intimate. Marriage had never been a priority in his adult life, but to that end, neither had romance. If they escaped this dimension, would Q laugh off their bond of matrimony? Would he mock the absurdity of the idea, or would it give him the same sort of thrill Jean-Luc was experiencing now?

"Fine, fine, but I won't be happy about it," Q groaned. He slid his hand behind the low of Jean-Luc's back, squeezing his fingers suggestively into his side. "I might be more inclined if you joined me." he purred.

A sick sense of unease gripped Jean-Luc rather suddenly, a searing guilt that compelled him to slip out of Q's grip and hop off the bed, pretending to stretch. The guilt intensified ten-fold when he glimpsed the soft crease in Q's brow and the downward tilt of his lips.

"What's wrong?" Q asked firmly, perhaps a tad indignantly. Jean-Luc couldn't tell for sure, since he could no longer sample Q's mood through their connection.

Jean-Luc attempted to appear as nonchalant as he could with such disquieting thoughts flying around his mind. It wasn't that he didn't want to touch Q, or be with him. Quite the opposite, really, but he couldn't fathom being intimate with Q while he was still struggling between two men's memories. "Nothing. I just remembered I had work I needed to get done before I turn in," Jean-Luc said, almost cringing at his own poorly executed lie. He took some comfort in the fact that he could certainly manifest plenty of work for himself if the need arose. "I'll join you later."

For a moment it looked as though Q might press on, but fairly quickly he seemed to have lost the motivation to do so. It really looked like the day was catching up to him. "Work work work," he muttered crossly, leaning over to pull his shoes off. "The love of your life  _collapses_ and you could care less. I could have hit my head and  _died_ , you know!"

Normally such a silly exaggeration in an attempt to whittle Jean-Luc's resolution would earn the exact response Q wanted - which was usually Jean-Luc's compliance in something or other - but tonight, all Jean-Luc could summon was a strained smile. Hearing Q joke about his own death was unsettling and mildly panic-inducing.  _Good lord,_  Picard thought,  _I am not handling this as well as I thought I might._  He blamed exhaustion. Amanda warned him that after such a harsh inundation of information his mind and his body would need to rest. But he couldn't rest, not now, not when he had so much thinking to do.

Picard's eyes pulled around the room, their bedroom, his and Q's, taking in the details that now seemed so incredibly alien to him. The bedroom had been a huge selling point for Q. He loved the color - cornflower blue, strong and rustic - and the long, narrow windows that climbed to the exposed wooden beams that criss-crossed across their ceiling, interspersed with hanging white lights. A classic beige dresser filled with their clothes sat against the farthest wall, a dresser that once belonged to Jean-Luc's maman, and when he'd first laid eyes on it Q commented that he liked the look of it, that his mother was a 'classy woman', that he'd wished he could have met her.

The walls were dressed sparsely with items Jean-Luc had acquired on various digs, not unlike his quarters on the  _Enterprise_ , as well as a couple of abstract pieces of art Q swears he'd painted himself during his time as a freelance artist. They'd picked out their bed-set together before they'd settled on the house. Jean-Luc liked a good firm mattress and Q preferred plush and feathery so it had taken them some time to find a bed they could both agree on. Even now, the Great Mattress Debate was a fond memory.

They still had a mortgage to pay off. The idea was so ludicrous Jean-Luc almost let loose a laugh, but his chest was too tight to quite manage it.

For a wild moment he let bitterness consume him. He was bitter that he'd gained his memories back. He felt cheated. There was nothing he disliked about his life here with Q, not a single thing, and he wished he could wrench back even a shred of that happiness he'd felt. But he knew it was wrong. Now that he remembered, he couldn't go back, shouldn't go back. It would be impossible to move forward in this life now that he knew the truth.

"Jean-Luc?" When Jean-Luc came back to himself he realized with a jolt of surprise that Q was standing in front of him, reaching out to hold his upper arms, the exhaustion so obvious in his body moments ago all but flung from him and replaced with concerned tension. Picard met his eyes, his breath hitching over a painful lump in his throat. Once Q was certain Jean-Luc was solid on his feet, his hands moved to hold the sides of Jean-Luc's face gently. "You're scaring me now, darling. Is something wrong?"

Something in Picard slipped out of place. The starship captain was tired and overwhelmed, and the archaeology professor was tired too but he was also fiercely possessive of his life here. Both Picards were weak, neither of them able to support one another. He suspected he needed sleep, but more immediately he needed Q.

Jean-Luc pushed his head forward and caught Q's lips in a kiss, his fingers threading through Q's hair, pulling him closer, suddenly desperate to feel Q against him, to physically experience every inch of him. Q whimpered in surprise but easily fell into it, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, licking Jean-Luc's tongue and fluttering a content moan into his mouth. Jean-Luc kissed him until they were both breathless and dizzy, pulling away to impatiently kiss and suck on Q's jaw as he staggered forward, guiding them both back to the bed.

"Wha- Wait," Q huffed, shuffling backward without question, allowing Jean-Luc to tip him onto the mattress. They fell onto it ungracefully, Jean-Luc's hands fisted in Q's shirt, his lips shifting attention to Q's neck.

"I'm just so glad you're alright," he breathed against Q's jaw, pressing hot insistent kisses to his throat. It was true, every word, but he couldn't begin to articulate the sheer outpouring of emotion that was shredding his insides to bloody pieces.

"Is that all?" Q chuckled, moaning softly as Jean-Luc kissed and sucked a delicate bruise into his neck, his hands roaming Q's body, clawing at him possessively. The bed sheets were cool and smelled like them, like their house, like their life together. "I thought you wanted me to -  _ah_ \- rest?"

Jean-Luc re-positioned himself, straddling Q's waist to pull off his own shirt, bending back down to kiss Q hotly for another frantic moment before pulling away to ghost his breath over Q's lips. His hands were working to unfasten Q's slacks, and Q's own hands were enthusiastically relieving Jean-Luc of his belt. "Do you want to rest?" Jean-Luc asked him softly.

"Absolutely  _not_ ," Q groaned as Jean-Luc shed his pants and kicked off his own, their rapidly hardening lengths slotting together when Jean-Luc settled again over Q's hips. Q inhaled a sweet gasp. "N-not anymore. But what about your work?"

Jean-Luc's chest was hollowed out and heaving, his eyes raking over Q's body underneath him, trying to memorize the way he looked this way, framed by soft slate-gray sheets, his ample, slightly reddened lips parted to issue shallow breaths, his eyes wide and focused and  _dark_ , blown open in arousal, burning with affection and trust. The sight of it was almost too much.

"You are more important than my work," Jean-Luc said firmly, though his voice trembled on each heartfelt word. "You are more important to me than anything in this world-"  _-or anything in this universe_ , Jean-Luc wanted to finish, but he didn't want the starship captain to have his say tonight. He wanted one more undisturbed night with his husband before he had to consider the magnitude of what they now faced together.

Q's expressive eyes blinked in genuine surprise and a pale flush fell on his skin, not having anticipated such a sincere answer. They met each other in another sloppy kiss, both of them too tired to execute strong, precise movements. Jean-Luc rocked his hips, desperate for more friction, for more touching. More everything. Anything that stopped the onslaught of thoughts that now pooled unpleasantly in his brain, the unhappy realization that he was kissing Q, he was about to make love to Q, but it wasn't  _his_ Q, not entirely.

The gravity of their relationship was gone. The carefully crafted depth they had both knowingly and unknowingly nurtured throughout the years was gone, and in its place was a strong bond, yes, but not nearly as strong as it had been. Between themselves and the better part of three years they had forged a relationship that most would be envious of, but still it didn't hold a candle to what they'd had before. Jean-Luc felt selfish for comparing them, but it was almost impossible not to.

So instead of thinking any longer, he concentrated on pulling the breath from Q's lungs, his hands roaming over Q's soft, pliable skin, focusing on how heavenly it felt under his fingertips. After several moments of kisses and caresses he pulled himself up, lowering his mouth to the swell of Q's stomach as his arm reached out to the bedside table, grappling with the top drawer to extract a tube of oil and a condom. Q groaned under him, his hands anchored behind Jean-Luc's head and neck, his hips lazily bucking up to meet his husband's hot, swollen arousal.

"I love you," Jean-Luc groaned, laying warm kisses to Q's hip as he hastily opened the container of oil one-handed and squeezed some into his palm. He managed to spread Q's knees apart with his elbows, pushing two well-oiled fingers into Q's tight heat. "I love you, Q," he repeated, catching every moan and breathy gasp that passed Q's lips as he pumped his fingers inside, watching him unravel in pleasure and need. With his free hand he rolled the condom on his throbbing erection, using the remainder of the oil to stroke his own cock. "You're beautiful," Jean-Luc continued, impatiently pulling his fingers free to position his cock against the rim of Q's greedy hole. Q was flushed with arousal and perhaps a smidgen of embarrassment over Jean-Luc's amorous words of praise.

"Ridiculous man," Q managed to get out, almost a whimper, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Jean-Luc ran a hand down Q's chest and stomach, coming to rest on the curve of his ribs as he pushed the head of his cock into Q's tight depths, groaning deeply when that perfect heat encompassed him. Q's head titled back. He spread his legs wider, hands grasping for Jean-Luc's hands and arms or anything to hang onto. Jean-Luc leaned into him, his cock plunging deep inside, Q's muscles pulsing and clenching around him beautifully. Q let out a delightfully pitiful cry, writhing into the bed sheets, panting Jean-Luc's name.

"I love you terribly. Don't you ever forget that," Jean-Luc huffed, giving Q a short, strong thrust, "not  _ever_."

"H-how could I?" Q laughed, his laugh quickly dissolving into a long string of moans as Jean-Luc picked up the pace, snapping his hips rhythmically into Q's slick heat. Q's arms rose to pull Jean-Luc down, catching his lips in a sloppy kiss, groaning into his mouth as he was pounded into the sheets. Jean-Luc's mind fell blessedly blank from the sensations.

He didn't want to think, he only wanted to feel. For one last night, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The perks of having an omnipotent lover: never have to worry about STDs, instant clean-up, and no risk of infection ever. _La Barre_ Picard and Q, on the other hand, don’t have the benefit of Space Magic™, therefore lube and condoms. XD Oh woe is them!
> 
> More Junior in the next chapter, where he may or may not engage in a very awkward conversation with ~~his new step dad~~ Picard that I may or may not have hinted at approx. 6 million years ago. Seriously, how long have I been writing, I’ve literally lost track of the months at this point


	12. Chapter 12

Jean-Luc did not usually wake up feeling more tired than before he went to bed, but he didn't often have days like yesterday, either. As he lay in a foggy state of alertness, he was positive he'd never felt more emotionally drained in his life, and he was certainly no stranger to hardship. The soft light of their bedroom burned his eyes when he sluggishly slid them open, and for a moment Jean-Luc allowed himself to remain where he was, completely inactive, his head impossibly heavy on his pillow. With all the power he could muster he rolled his head to view Q's sleeping form beside him, flat on his stomach, his head titled in Jean-Luc's direction, lips parted to release slow, steady breaths. Jean-Luc could feel the threads of his mind instinctively reach out, desperate to be joined, but Amanda's barrier was holding strong. He squashed his disappointment, settling for tracing his knuckle lightly over Q's cheekbone, drawing away only because he was afraid to wake him.

Jean-Luc watched him for a moment, breathing in the sight of him, his fully-functioning heart squeezing painfully in his chest as he realized he couldn't lounge around in bed any longer. He needed to be the captain of the  _Enterprise_ for a little while, he needed to formulate a strategy for moving forward. Last night he'd allowed himself a moment of weakness - more than he'd ought to have allowed - but now he needed to think of a solution to their rather large problem.

Captain of the  _Enterprise_ or not, he still remembered how to make Q's favorite breakfast in  _this_ world, and occupying himself physically while brainstorming had always been strangely therapeutic for both Picards, be it cooking here or horseback riding in his real life.

Careful not to wake Q, Jean-Luc slipped out of bed and padded to the washroom - grabbing up some of his hastily discarded clothes along the way - to relieve himself and splash some cold water on his face before quietly making his way to the kitchen.

He spent a good few minutes reacquainting himself with the contents of his kitchen, getting ready every ingredient he needed to make banana crepes and egg frittata. He allowed himself a small smile as he began cracking eggs over a pan; never in his life -  _any_  of them - had he ever cared for decadent breakfasts, always preferring quick, simple meals to start his day. And yet somewhere along the way he'd learned to cook frittata of all things, simply because Q preferred his breakfasts big and hearty.

A voice from behind him abruptly ended Jean-Luc's train of thought. "So, how did you do it?"

An egg fumbled between Picard's hands and dropped to the floor with a crunchy splat. He whirled on the spot to face the window where the voice had sharply emanated, his heart in his throat. He let out a strained breath of relief when his eyes met the now-familiar stare of Quenton, who was sitting cross-legged on the counter under the open window as if it were the most natural place for him to be. Picard cast a brisk look toward the hallway where the bedroom lay just beyond, and Quenton followed his gaze.

"He's not awake, don't worry. I'll split before then."

Jean-Luc glanced back, willing his nerves to settle. "Why are you here?" he asked quietly.

Quenton's eyes swept back to find Picard's and held his gaze firmly. Looking at the boy in the soft orange light of early morning, Jean-Luc could see more than ever the uncanny resemblance to Q he bore, which he knew was entirely cosmetic and solely for the purpose of conveying a human concept of which the Q had no other comparable example. It didn't make it any less odd to look at or consider.

"How did you do it?" Quenton repeated, his tone mildly accusatory. Picard's brow scrunched into a frown, fading only slightly when he realized he still had breakfast to prepare. He turned back to the counter, ignoring the fallen egg at his feet and cracking another over the pan.

"Do what?" A different sort of nervousness settled in Jean-Luc's stomach. He knew the tone of someone who was getting at a very personal question, and considering Q was more or less Quenton's father, Jean-Luc had a fairly good idea what sort of questions he was facing.  _Focus on breakfast_ , Picard thought furiously,  _not the fact that I'm about to have 'the talk' with Q's son_.

"How did you seduce him?" The way Quenton asked was chilling, as if his inquiry was an established fact and he was only idly wondering after how it had been accomplished. Jean-Luc dropped the last egg into the pan and set it aside to cut the vegetables, grabbing up a pepper and slicing into it.

"I don't know what you mean." he answered stiffly.

"I think you do," Quenton shot back promptly, like he'd been expecting those exact words to counter his own. "Do you honestly expect me to believe Q would do all of this for a fling? No Q has ever committed this level of self-sabotage. You must have done something, or said something that… I don't know, earned his unyielding loyalty somehow. I'm only curious what it was, since you seem  _completely_  unremarkable to me."

At that, Picard allowed himself a half-turn and an eyebrow raise if only to demonstrate how very unnecessary he considered that comment. Quenton merely shrugged in reply. Jean-Luc resumed cutting the vegetables.

"I believe the real question is, do you really think so lowly of Q to assume that a mortal - one so  _unremarkable_ as myself - could sway him with mere words or promises? I assure you I did no such thing,  _could_ do no such thing."

He could practically feel Quenton's eyes burning into his back with unsatisfied curiosity. "You must have done  _something_ ," he argued, the insinuation clear, "I mean... all of this, for a human? What, do you give the universe's best blow jobs or something?"

Jean-Luc's knife missed its mark and nearly took off the tip of his thumb. This time he turned to view the boy sitting on the counter with squared shoulders and tight lips. "Q or not, I won't tolerate that sort of distasteful language in this house," he warned, never mind the fact that he had, in actuality, given Q an incredible blow job several hours previous, though he couldn't claim it was the best in the  _universe_. But denying it seemed inappropriate and wildly suspicious, so it seemed best to avoid the comment altogether.

" _Sorry_ ," Quenton groaned in that voice children selected when they were not sorry in the least bit. "I'm just trying to figure this out, is all."

"Well, that makes both of us." Jean-Luc turned back to his vegetables, determined not to be goaded like that again. "I don't understand this any more than you do. My only priority at this point is to find a way to snap Q out of this, whatever this is, and bring us back to our own universe in one piece."

Quenton blew a raspberry through his lips. "Disappointing." he said flatly. "I was kind of expecting some big speech about human devotion and undying love."

"You'll find none of that here," Jean-Luc replied just as dryly. "This," he lifted a hand to twirl his finger in the air to indicate 'everything', "isn't about love or devotion. This is… pain. A panic attack. This is anxiety amplified by the power of Q. Something within Q broke, I  _felt_ it break, and I couldn't… couldn't..." Suddenly the words turned to tar in Jean-Luc's throat. He had to pause to swallow them back down, his composure threatening to flee.

He finished slicing the peppers and broccoli and set his hands on the counter, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. Dammit. Quenton's inquires were effortlessly dredging up emotions Picard hadn't been ready to deal with yet, and speaking about it so openly was like throwing oil on a flame in an attempt to put it out. Behind him, he heard a sharp intake of breath.

"You… Wow, you really feel guilty about all this, don't you?"

Jean-Luc's jaw formed a firm square. "It's risky enough for Amanda to use her powers to suppress my end of the bond, I don't think you should be making it worse by poking around in my mind."

Quenton hopped off the counter and appeared beside Jean-Luc, staring at him with round eyes and a vaguely bewildered expression. "I didn't need to," he admitted softly. "I've learned a thing or two about human mannerisms at Aunt Kathy's, is all. 'Empathy', she called it. I'm not an expert or anything, but I've seen guilt before." He paused. "Felt it before, too."

Jean-Luc wasn't sure what to say. He pulled the package of ham toward him and busied himself opening it. Despite his obvious attempt to squash the issue, Quenton pressed on.

"What's there to feel guilty about?" he asked curiously. "You didn't force Q to do this, he did it himself. And as you yourself pointed out, as a powerless human, you can't force him to do anything, so… Why?"

Jean-Luc cleared his throat, reclaiming his knife to begin cutting the ham into cubes. "It's… Difficult to explain. People don't always feel guilt as a result of having caused something. Sometimes we feel guilty for… Allowing things to happen. Or being unable to prevent them."

Quenton leaned his arms on the counter and tilted his head, his eyes following the motions of Jean-Luc's knife. "So, you feel bad because you didn't stop him?" he asked, his face scrunching in befuddlement. "Isn't that the same thing? I mean, the fact remains that you  _couldn't_ have stopped him. So what's the point in beating yourself up over it?"

"That's not precisely what I meant," Jean-Luc cast a sidelong glance at the young Q, the inquisitive thing so strangely similar to the Q who had a part in creating him. He paused, drawing his lower lip between his teeth as he set down his knife once again, turning decisively to face his uninvited house guest. "You must have learned something or other about human relationships while you were under Captain Janeway's supervision. About what it means to maintain a partnership with another person."

Quenton shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

Jean-Luc scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "There are certain things necessary for those involved in a relationship, vital pieces that keep the relationship healthy and strong. Communication and support are integral. At our cores, Q and I are as different as two beings can be, but we've taken great pains to be there for each other regardless. To be honest and open. This whole situation-" Jean-Luc cast his eyes away, determined to focus on anything other than Quenton's unnerving stare, "-It's difficult not to feel guilty, when the one you love is in such incomprehensible pain. Powerlessness can be its own form of guilt."

Quenton watched him, considering, all of his earlier ill will seeming to have liquefied into tame curiosity. "I see," he said, in a tone that suggested he was only halfway there, "You're worried you didn't do enough for him emotionally."

Hearing it said so plainly was more embarrassing than Jean-Luc anticipated it would be. "Something like that." he huffed.

"Okay, but," Quenton stood up straight and folded his arms over his chest, leveling Picard a confused grimace. "You said this wasn't about love, but everything you and Q have done up until this point says otherwise. Everything you  _do_ is out of love - Q's anxiety, your guilt and everything in-between. You're both hurting because the other one is."

Jean-Luc could only stare at the young Q with a slightly slack jaw and a rapidly thumping heart, stunned into silence. When this conversation began he'd never expected it would somehow swerve in this direction, to suddenly hear something so profound and vaguely mushy from not only a Q but a Q more or less related to  _his_ Q. He feared his expression betrayed just how surprised he was, but Quenton didn't seem interested in a reaction, nor did he give him a chance to respond.

"So that's it, huh?" Quenton chirped sarcastically, rolling his eyes in a way that was far too familiar. "That's the big secret, the scandalous truth, the pollution that the Continuum won't shut up about? That's what's got Q sealing away his powers in some super-secret, maximum security dimension? You  _love_ each other. Love!" Quenton barked a laugh, loud enough that Jean-Luc cast another concerned look in the direction of the hallway. "I was hoping for something a little more exciting, maybe something more devious, but I guess I have to accept it. Q simply…" Quenton huffed a sigh and tossed his arms in the air, pacing away from the counter moodily as his arms flopped limply against his sides. "... _fell in love_. How lackluster."

Jean-Luc couldn't prevent his lips from tilting up in a tame smile. "Believe me, there was nothing simple about it." was all he could think to reply.

Quenton tossed him a look over his shoulder, and Jean-Luc felt a misplaced swelling of relief when he saw Quenton's lips were also fighting a tentative smile of his own.

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me." He stretched his arms over his head, yawning hugely. "I'd better be going, anyway. I just came to- Well, I guess I wanted to…" Quenton's voice was suddenly fraught with uncertainty, all of his earlier tongue-in-cheek gone and replaced with uncharacteristic meekness. Jean-Luc couldn't claim to be fantastic at reading people - especially young people, omnipotence notwithstanding - but Quenton's slightly wavering voice and the sudden slouch in his posture suggested he wanted to say something more, or perhaps have something said to him. In a moment of wild inspiration, Jean-Luc grabbed up the pan of uncooked eggs and brandished it in front of him like some sort of peace offering.

"During your time on _Voyager_ , did you happen to do any cooking?" he asked, wishing he could sound a touch less clumsy. Quenton's eyes turned to Jean-Luc with a glimmer of careful optimism, encouraging Jean-Luc to perilously press on. "I certainly wouldn't mind a little help. All of these new memories have pushed out the little things, including how the devil to make a decent crepe."

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Q awoke to the smell of cooked eggs and rich batter and fragrant fruit. For a moment he allowed that aroma to wrap around him like an extra blanket, swathing him gently in its familiar comfort. The only thing that irked him about the heavenly smell of his favorite breakfast was that his husband was not in bed with him. Jean-Luc was an early riser, always had been, which in Q's opinion was Jean-Luc's only unattractive trait. Then again, when it usually meant waking up to a delicious breakfast and hot coffee, perhaps it wasn't something to complain about too loudly.

For a hazy instant Q thought he could hear the sound of quiet voices conversing, but as soon as he focused his senses enough to listen the voices went silent, leaving only the distant songs of birds outside the window and the gentle hum of the AC.

After a time of dozing in and out, Q dragged a breath in through his nose and exhaled long and slow, his chest expanding, his spine urged to pop. He groaned in relief, flopping flat on his back and shutting his eyes again to blot out the morning - afternoon? - light that was causing a dull resurgence of pain in the front of his skull. Q lifted a hand to rub the arch of his brows in slow circles, which did nothing to help the discomfort, of course, but lately it had become a habit whenever the familiar pain spiked in his head.

The longer he lay still, the more diluted the pain became until finally he could focus on the much more pleasant ache pulsing in his hips and rear, a friendly reminder of how he'd spent the tail end of his night. His fingers left his forehead to trail over all the tender bruises patterned over his throat and his collarbone, his lips pulling in a soft, lazy smile as he pressed the pads of his fingers into each and every one of them, tempted to inspect the blooming bruises peppered sweetly over his inner thighs as well.  _That beast_ , Q thought delightedly, running over the night's events in his mind like a hazy daydream.

He couldn't help but feel a pang of concern as he recalled the previous day. Something changed at the hospital. It was hard to determine exactly when the change occurred, but if he had to put a pin in it he would say it was after he went in for the CT scan. When Jean-Luc joined him in his room afterwards he looked shaken, fragile, like he wasn't confident his legs were going to support him. It was different to how he'd looked when he first arrived, his expression knit in sharp concern, his lips tight and his entire body tense with the uncertainty of the situation. That was the concern of a husband, a lover, a friend, and though Q still hated to have made him worry like that, it was expected. He'd seen Jean-Luc stressed before, he knew what form it took. The latter was something else, something he'd never seen in his husband. It was as if suddenly a wall had edged between them. If he hadn't been so thoroughly exhausted after their lovemaking, he might have brought it up. He wasn't especially good at discussing feelings - his own, predominantly - but for Jean-Luc, he was continually compelled to rise up and above his carefully tailored comfort zone.

The wafting scent of breakfast pulled Q from his thoughts and reminded him that he needed to get out of bed, lest Jean-Luc's hard work go to waste. With a sleepy groan, Q flung back the blankets, the cool air of the bedroom immediately chilling his vulnerable, uncovered body. Q usually slept in the nude, he preferred it, but Jean-Luc did not usually share his appreciation for bedtime nudity and only joined him in this aspect when they spent their night having sex, which honestly happened more often than not, so Q had little to complain about.

Q rolled onto his side and painstakingly pulled himself up, ignoring the dull flare of pain that spiked behind his eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes flicked to the bottle of prescribed painkillers on the bedside table, wondering idly if he should take some. He quickly decided he wouldn't. The pain was only a whisper of what it was, and taking pills for it would seem like an admission that something was wrong with him, that he had a need for medication, which he didn't. He'd just overworked himself, was all. He hadn't eaten enough at lunch. Maybe he was lacking iron? In any case, fainting wasn't necessarily an indication that something was wrong. Lots of people fainted, probably. It happened in movies all the time. The fact that it had taken so long for it to finally happen to him most likely meant that he was healthier than most, right? As he opened the table drawer and thrust the bottle of pills inside and out of sight, this was the logic he clung to.

He'd been so absorbed in his thoughts he hadn't heard the soft pad of his husband's feet against the carpet or the weak creak of the door as Jean-Luc stepped into the room, so the gentle voice that spoke out surprised him enough to make him jump.

"Ah, you're awake," Jean-Luc said, his voice carrying a note of worry. Q realized crossly that Jean-Luc had likely walked in just as he was tossing the bottle into the drawer. "How are you feeling?"

"Wonderful," Q answered with emphasis, determined to cast away any and all worries on his behalf. "I was only putting those pills away so I don't have to stare at them and be reminded of the inconveniences of yesterday. I don't think I'll be needing them, anyhow."

"No pain, then?" Jean-Luc asked, reaching out to gently pull his fingers through Q's hair, carefully inspecting Q's forehead as though a headache were something you could diagnose with your eyes.

"No pain," Q lied, confident that the dull, intermittent ache he felt now was only a remnant from yesterday and not worth reporting. His mouth quirked in a suggestive grin. "Though I do believe that orgasms may in fact provide natural pain relief, after last night. Perhaps the good ol' doc prescribed the wrong treatment."

Jean-Luc's face split with a soft, fond smile, the kind of smile that Q was so used to seeing each and every day, the kind of smile he didn't feel even remotely worthy of but was still quite content to hoard for himself. Sometimes Q thought he existed only to see that smile, to receive it, to hold it protectively against his heart so that no one else could have it. Jean-Luc's eyes flicked down to regard the various bruises he'd worked into Q's pale skin, tracing his fingers lightly over the darkest of them, not unlike Q had done moments before.

"I certainly did a number on you," Jean-Luc observed apologetically, though his eyes were shining with pride and unbridled affection. Q nearly shivered under his touch, forever in awe of the way Jean-Luc looked at him, as though he were some priceless piece of art.

Q scooped up Jean-Luc's hand and pulled it to his lips. "It was a lovely end to an otherwise dreadful night," he purred with a grin. "Thank you,  _mon professeur_."

There it was again- That flicker of something Q had never seen before behind Jean-Luc's eyes. It strained that warm smile and pulled it tight, stomping out the tender ardor that had been there only a moment ago. Concern rose in Q again, a painful twinge in his skull. Before he could think of anything to say, Jean-Luc curled his fingers tightly around Q's insistently, giving his hand a gentle tug.

"Come along, your breakfast is getting cold. And for goodness sake, put some clothes on." Jean-Luc's lips curled in a wry smile, but it seemed more like an attempt to deter the concern that Q doubted he was doing well to mask. "Sleeping in the nude is one thing, but  _eating_ in the nude is pure savagery and I absolutely won't have it under this roof."

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.

.

There were more hanging plants than he remembered.

Since Robert didn't care for houseplants, Jean-Luc could only deduce that Marie had taken up a new hobby since he'd last visited. After her son's graduation late last year - when Rene had subsequently left home to backpack across Europe with some friends of his from school - Marie had been unusually restless, taking up a variety of hobbies to keep her mind and her body occupied. Robert seemed mostly unchanged, though every now and again he grumbled about the callous, devil-may-care attitude of the younger generation. Jean-Luc heard no such grumblings since arriving unannounced today, but Robert was not an especially chatty man in the morning.

Picard set down his empty mug a little more loudly than he'd intended, the sound of it echoing unpleasantly over the small breakfast nook.

"Leaving so soon?" Despite the obvious tinge of aggravation in his voice, Robert didn't bother to look up from his newspaper, nor did it stop him from taking a long, leisurely drink of his coffee. Jean-Luc stood from the table, snorted, and slung his school bag over his shoulder.

"Yes, well. I suppose I've plagued you long enough. I have classes to teach, you know."

"Oh yes, your very important classes," Robert dabbed his thumb with his tongue and turned the page of his paper - an unseemly habit that this world's Robert shared with the real Robert, unfortunately - and gave the pages a firm shake to keep them in order. "Don't let me keep you."

Jean-Luc cast his eyes on the table where they'd shared coffee and biscuits - in total silence, as Robert stoically read his morning paper and occasionally sighed with thinly veiled irritation at Jean-Luc's presence - and felt a strange surge of sadness grip him. Even though he knew none of this was real, it still pained him to think that this may well be the last time he'd have the chance to spend time with his brother like this. It was strange how much regret could alter appreciation for something that was once so unpalatable.

"Thanks for the coffee," Jean-Luc said.

Robert grunted. "You usually don't come 'round here for morning coffee," he observed coolly. "Where's that troublesome husband of yours? Couldn't be bothered to brew some coffee for you in your own damn house?"

Jean-Luc offered a sideways grin. "He's gone back to work. He had to open the restaurant today." Why he still felt the need to explain anything to a fictional character borne from his own imagination was beyond him. In reply, Robert merely lowered the newspaper just enough to stare pointedly in Jean-Luc's direction, his mouth set in a deep trench of a frown. Jean-Luc sighed irritably. "I haven't been sleeping well these last few days." he admitted.

"Ah-hah," Robert went back to reading his paper, satisfied. "Not sleeping well, really. Quint is feeling well enough to go back to work, there's nothing to lose sleep over."

 _If only_ , Jean-Luc wanted to say. He  _could_ say it, he supposed, he could divulge every ounce of his horrible anxiety no matter how nonsensical Robert would undoubtedly find it all. This was all make-believe. Robert was a figment of his imagination given form by Q, just like everyone and everything else. The fact that Q was back at his pretend human job was  _absolutely_ something to lose sleep over, though he supposed it was better than the headaches.

In the end, Jean-Luc had only managed to keep Q home for three days. That wasn't to say it was ever a chore to convince Q  _not_ to go to work and to laze about at home, but after the second day, Q started to become strangely restless, good-naturedly accusing Jean-Luc of being an all-around worrywart among other things, claiming "-that silly headache hasn't returned, not for one moment, and the good doctor gave me the all-clear. I don't think going outside will  _kill_ me." which made Jean-Luc terribly uncomfortable because, yes, Q could feasibly die in this dimension. Yes, the Continuum could also kill him if they ever found their way out of this place, could potentially destroy them  _both_ , and no, even after three days Picard hadn't formulated a way to escape this place, nor had he even a single theory as to how to bring Q's memories to the surface without harming him.

He'd spent a good portion of their three-day weekend peppering conversations with words he hoped might trigger memories, just as Amanda had, and his results were just as spectacularly fruitless. More so, in fact. 'Farpoint', 'Enterprise', 'Continuum', 'Sherwood'... None of them spurred any kind of reaction from Q aside from confusion or complete disinterest - usually the latter - and as the days wore on and dozens of words garnered the same effect, Jean-Luc began to accept that keywords simply weren't the way to go. His own memories crafted the building blocks of the dimension Q created. They were everywhere, from the well-stocked earl grey in the kitchen cabinet to the stinging nettle growing wild in the shady spots of their garden. Even at the university where Jean-Luc needed to be in an hour and a quarter, memory fragments were absolutely everywhere.

Data, Guinan, Will, Deanna, Geordi, Beverly, Worf, even Tasha were all peers of his in some area of his life, be it fellow professors, headmasters, archaeologists he'd met on retreats or just friendly denizens of La Barre. His family, his vineyard, it was all here, just taking a different form. Jean-Luc wasn't certain which of their minds was responsible for it, his or Q's, but he suspected it was some sort of combination, his own memories blended with Q's desire to see to his comfort. It explained much, including Q's inability to remember his own youth, family, or anything resembling mortal growth. Q didn't have memories that were compatible with this environment. He had no concept of biological family, he'd never experienced the pains of growing from a child into an adult or known what it felt like to sense your own life ticking away with the mark of years.

This world was created for Jean-Luc almost exclusively. He had to wonder if Q had meant to share it with him at all, or if it had all been some sort of happy accident.

"Don't you have a class to get to? Or were you planning on just staring at the wallpaper all morning?" Robert barked, pulling Jean-Luc from his consuming thoughts. "Good god, you weren't joking. You're a basket case."

Jean-Luc shook his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind."

Robert folded up his paper and tossed it on the table beside Jean-Luc's empty mug. He joined his hands together and rested them in front of him. "My brother. Always fine, never troubled," he said with a fond but vaguely condescending chuckle, "I don't believe I've ever seen you truly  _worry_ about anything. You always have an answer for everything, don't you? There's no need to worry when you have all the answers, and if you don't have the answer, by god you'll seek it out and grab it up anyway. You've always been like that. And I've always found it incredibly contemptible."

Jean-Luc wished his mind hadn't been quite so accurate when recreating Robert. He could have at  _least_ made him a smidgen less pompous.

"Robert. I really don't have time for… whatever this is, right now," Jean-Luc said resignedly.

"My point is," Robert continued on firmly, "it isn't like you to give in to fear." He stood from the table to join Jean-Luc where he stood, laying a hand firmly on Jean-Luc's shoulder and giving him a squeeze, a rare gesture of support. "Everything is going to be fine. Just find your answer, like you always do."

Jean-Luc's breath caught in his throat. In a single slice of frozen time, it became abundantly clear why he'd come to see Robert this morning. He wanted to say goodbye. He never got to say goodbye.

During one of his sessions with Counselor Troi that had, for a time, become almost a weekly necessity, Deanna told him that he'd been denied closure, that Robert and Rene had passed away so suddenly and so senselessly that it was perfectly normal and healthy to feel cheated by the universe. His anger and his guilt were normal, she said. He had to embrace it and accept it, she said. She was right, of course, Deanna usually was, but Jean-Luc was spectacularly bad at taking her advice.

His throat tight, Jean-Luc laid his hand over Robert's, gripping him tight. Robert perked a brow, but that was all.

"Thank you," Jean-Luc forced out. Robert rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched.

"Fine, fine." He pulled his hand away, but not before giving Jean-Luc another squeeze and a strong pat. "Now get to class. And for god's sake, don't come strolling in here expecting coffee and company again anytime soon! There's work to be done around here, you know." He went to turn away and then stopped himself. "And tell that damn husband of yours to take care of himself. You're just as contemptible when you're worried."

A stiff laugh broke the rock that had formed in Jean-Luc's throat. He adjusted the bag's strap on his shoulder. "I'll be sure to tell him you're very glad he's feeling well."

"You do that," Robert grunted, picking up their empty mugs and carrying them to the sink.

Jean-Luc made his way to the door, focusing on breathing evenly through his nose. Make-believe or not, he knew that was all the sentiment he would be getting from Robert today. He left without another word. There was nothing left to say, really, there never had been. Deanna was right about that, too. Sometimes regret is a liar.

The sky was blanketed in grey and swirling black, the distant rumbling of thunder whispering the promise of a storm. Jean-Luc hadn't brought an umbrella, but he couldn't be arsed to care about a bit of rain in a false world. In fact, he found he didn't care about much of anything now that he had Captain Picard's memories. All that mattered was getting back to their own universe, and getting there safely. He tried not to think beyond that, to what sort of hideous punishment the Continuum was likely plotting for Q were he to leave the place that served as his only defense against them, or the ugly query waiting for him at Starfleet were they to survive the Continuum's judgement.

If he thought about those things, he worried he might lose his resolve to leave.

Jean-Luc walked along the dirt road that led far past the vineyards, his eyes cast upward at the dismal clouds sluggishly passing overhead. He drew a deep breath in through his nose and let it out slowly, trying to steel himself. Within the hour he would be walking into a university that didn't exist to resume his non-existent job, and no matter how adamantly he tried to pull Jean-Luc the professor of archaeology to the surface to let him walk this familiar route in his stead, the Captain of the  _Enterprise's_ shadow was growing longer and longer across his consciousness. He couldn't live in this world, not when Q's well-being was so uncertain, not when the life he coveted was so incredibly far away.

A blazing car horn and screeching tires startled Picard from his thoughts. He'd been so absorbed in his unpleasant musings he hadn't realized the road had long since disappeared behind him, leading him into the connecting street without so much as a glance in either direction. He turned just in time to witness the oncoming car skid to a hard stop in front of him, its back tires jumping several inches from the pavement from the force, its front bumper only just gently tapping his knees, not even hard enough to sway him. Jean-Luc stared at the car with his heart in his throat, raising his eyes to meet the car's driver, who was ashen-faced and slack-jawed with terror. It was so real. Such a genuine reaction, like a complex holodeck program, but Q was unconsciously orchestrating it all, down to this nameless man's emotional response to a close-call.

A shuddering breath passed his lips as he staggered away from the vehicle to the safety of the roadside, the intermittent rattle of its engine ringing unpleasantly in his ears as the car sped off. Picard's eyes raised to the thick line of bushes, trees and tall, wild foliage that tightly framed the road from which he'd emerged. He didn't claim to know a great deal about 20th century vehicles even after having a lifetime's worth of experience with them, but he was certain the driver had not seen him in time to react. The bushes would have hidden him until the very last moment. The lift of the back wheels was proof enough that the car had been going too fast to stop in time.

The car should have hit him.

Picard braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath as the implications washed over him. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? Keywords weren't an effective method for triggering memories because memories were the foundation of this dimension, they were the blood that gave this place life. Q passively allowed Jean-Luc's mind to fill in the narrative of their world, the people and the places, but Q held the reigns on all else, the things better described as 'cosmic'. Karmic destiny, fate, luck. Notions Picard would not typically entertain were he not already intimately acquainted with the world's only God.

There was a very important conversation he needed to have with his husband, Jean-Luc realized unpleasantly. They'd both put it off for long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D: And just what has Picard figured out? I WONDER 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be hectic, it’s been one of the hardest chapters I’ve had to write so far, for a variety of reasons. *cough*EMOTIONALREASONS*cough*
> 
> Bit of a heads up, I haven’t had a lot of inspiration to write lately, so I’m a little behind on editing/writing chapters. The aggravating thing is, I’m SO close to being done with this story - only two and a half more chapters to write! - so it’s kind of a pain to hit a creative snag right now. It shouldn’t hold me back too much, (I have 3 more chapters finished and ready to post in addition to this one) but if I happen to skip a week of uploading in the near future, everything’s fine, I just need extra time to work on stuff. :3 Though I’d like to keep my consistent posting schedule going strong, if I can.


	13. Chapter 13

The sky was blanketed in deep black, stars piercing through the inky backdrop like pinholes through velvet. The moon was fat and hanging heavy in the sky, a perfect orb, lighting their path as Picard - the Captain, not the professor - walked along the lake beside Q. It was a beautifully clear night, pleasantly warm with a light breeze, perfect for a stroll. Jean-Luc wished he could enjoy it. He wished he could forget what he'd come here to do, forget the reality of their situation and simply enjoy a romantic moonlight stroll with his husband, but this was a fair bit more important than his own distress.

Q couldn't feel his uncertainty, he couldn't sense the apprehension that filled Jean-Luc as they walked along this familiar path. That in of itself was reason to press on. In his mind - his lonely, unshared mind - he chanted  _Don't think, just do,_  over and over again until it became the steam with which he walked.

"Are you going to tell me  _why_ you've dragged us out here at such a late hour?" Q hummed, strolling along the moonlit path with a meticulous, impatient glimmer in his eye.

"I would hardly call this a late hour," Jean-Luc answered.

"Late for you, not for me," Q corrected. "I know how you get if you're not in bed with a book in your hands by ten."

"Surely I'm not  _that_ predictable."

Q chuckled, his hand seeking out Jean-Luc's and holding it tightly in his own. "Predictable to a fault, darling." Jean-Luc's heart wrenched tightly in his chest.  _Don't think, just do_.

It wasn't long before Jean-Luc could see the bench and tree that marked the familiar small stretch of public turf nestled beside the lake. The last time they'd visited, Jean-Luc asked Q to spend the rest of his life with him. The memory was just as real to him as any other, just as precious, perhaps more so. He squashed his reemerging reluctance and gave Q's hand a soft squeeze, his eyes skimming the plaque nailed to the fence with its cruel name carved into the brass, the name that had meant nothing to him when he'd first seen it. 'Farpoint', it read. The place where their lives together had begun twice over in their real lives, as well. It had always been there to see, but he hadn't the need to look.

"The last time we visited this park, you proposed," Q mused, pulling Jean-Luc's hand up to kiss his knuckles before releasing him. It was comforting to know that even when their minds were separated they were still on the same wavelength. "And come to think of it, this is also technically where we had our first date. Just going off of statistics here, are you about to suggest we adopt a child?"

Despite himself, Jean-Luc sputtered a horrified laugh, leaning against the rail overlooking the lake. Q's shoulder bumped against him playfully. "Good lord, no. A cat, perhaps." he said.

"You detest cats," Q pointed out.

"'Detest' is a strong word. I don't do well with smaller animals, is all."

"Then you've finally decided to adopt a horse?"

Jean-Luc found himself chuckling again, followed by a surge of pain in his stomach that stabbed him like nausea. "Nothing is being adopted, I assure you."

Q leaned forward to rest his forearms on the rail, the mirth fleeing his features, his eyes setting hard and stony on the motionless, moon drenched lake. Jean-Luc could see the worry in his brow, the anxiety in the gentle bob of his throat. Even though they no longer shared a consciousness, Q was no fool. It was clear that Q noticed how strangely he'd been acting, despite how thoroughly he'd tried to cover it up. And after days of this odd tension between them, Jean-Luc was bringing them here to this place, this isolated spot in the world that belonged only to them and represented the very lifeblood of their romance. Of course it would make him anxious. Jean-Luc hated to make him anxious.

 _Don't think, just do_.

"Jean-Luc," Q started, his eyes still trained on the lake, "I know something has been bothering you. Did you bring me here tonight to finally talk about it?"

Jean-Luc had no intention of denying anything or dragging it out longer than was needed. "Yes," he answered softly. Nothing about this was easy, it was destroying Jean-Luc's heart, it was spitting in the face of everything they had forged together in this world. But he needed to press on, he wanted the real Q back with him again. Jean-Luc drew a deep breath in through his nose. "This is where it began for us, so I thought this was an appropriate spot to discuss how it will end."

Q's head snapped in Jean-Luc's direction, locking eyes with him, his mouth going very thin and tight. The look on Q's face drove a knife of guilt into Jean-Luc's stomach, but he'd been prepared for this, and much worse. Somehow it didn't make it any easier, knowing that he was about to cause Q so much pain.  _Remember why you're doing this,_  Jean-Luc thought urgently, steeling himself.  _This may be the only way we can leave this place_.

"End?" Q repeated numbly, the tremble in his throat becoming a long, hard swallow. "You brought me here to…?"

"No," Jean-Luc answered swiftly, already having anticipated Q's knee-jerk reaction. "I'm not ending our relationship. I could never. I'm talking about the end of my mortal existence. My death."

Q's expression relaxed only minimally. His brow drew into a frown and his lips parted to say something, but the words seemed to abandon him and his mouth shut tightly. He attempted again after a sigh that jerked in his chest. "And why exactly would we need to discuss something so... unnecessary?" he asked in a strained voice.

Jean-Luc's hands were squeezing the life out of the railing. "I think you know exactly why," he answered. "This is a conversation we need to have, Q. It's imperative. Now more than ever."

Q's eyes darted away, his shoulders stiffening as he pushed away from the railing. He looked confused and upset, any anxiety he felt moments ago replaced with an entirely new brand of tension that showed clearly in every limb of his body. "We don't 'need' to do anything of the sort," Q almost snapped, shifting uncomfortably. "Why the urgency? That's not something we need to even  _consider_ for-"

"Eternity?" Jean-Luc cut in, watching Q closely to witness the sudden snap in his posture, the involuntary clench of his fingers as they curled into fists at his sides. The deep frown that creased Q's brow suggested that his body was reacting before he could identify what was making him upset. There was a strange hum in the air that Jean-Luc couldn't quite source, but it was weak and far away, a gentle pressure on the velvet backdrop. "I'm not getting any younger, Q. Eventually, I will die. I feel it's something we need to talk about."

Q rounded on him, his complexion ghost-white, his expressive eyes round and pained. "If this is some kind of joke, I'm here to officially tell you that it isn't well-received," he growled. "I don't want to discuss this. If that's all you've brought me down here for, then I think I'd rather leave."

He turned away. Jean-Luc extended a hand to touch Q's shoulder, a gentle incentive to stop, to calm; Q's shoulder was tight and softly trembling. "Why does it upset you?" Jean-Luc asked him earnestly. " _Everyone_  dies, Q. It's part of being mortal. We pledged to share our lives together, didn't we? In sickness and in health, till death do us-"

"Enough!" Q pulled away, staggering with the force. The hum was becoming a persistent pulse that was beginning to weigh heavily on Jean-Luc's eardrums. "Why are you doing this? Why are you  _talking_ like this?"

For the first time since getting his memories back, Jean-Luc felt the world around him was unstable, like they were standing in a gigantic box and the walls were beginning to sag. He had to get through to Q before the world collapsed, that was all he knew for certain.

"Because we have  _never_ spoken about it, Q. We've danced around the subject more times than I care to count, but it can't remain a forbidden topic forever."

Q looked mildly panicked. His chest was rising and falling in short, deep breaths, his hands still balled into slightly trembling fists, his eyes falling on anything and everything but Jean-Luc. Jean-Luc didn't need to read his thoughts to know how turbulent they must be, how trapped and confused he must feel. If his memories were beginning to unravel, Jean-Luc needed to be ready.

"Jean-Luc, I want to leave," Q said, sounding more broken than Jean-Luc ever heard him. This wasn't the Q he knew, the Q who responded to deep swellings of emotion with prickly snootiness and sarcasm and eventual acceptance. This was a vulnerable Q, a  _human_ Q, and Jean-Luc found himself more convinced than ever that Q didn't make a tremendously good human. Q went to turn away again. "If you don't want to come with me, than by all means. Stay and lecture the bench."

Jean-Luc reached out again and clasped Q around the wrist. "I can't let you," he said softly. "Whatever you're feeling right now, I  _need_  you to talk to me about it."

"This is ridiculous," Q growled, listlessly tugging his arm to urge Jean-Luc to release him. Jean-Luc tightened his hold.

"You can't even say it, can you?" Jean-Luc challenged him, pulling him closer. "You can't even  _admit_ that my life has an expiration date."

This time, Q yanked his arm away with enough force to unfurl Picard's grip and nearly pull him forward into Q's chest. " _I won't discuss this_ ," he grated out. Jean-Luc had never seen Q embody so many things all at once. He looked furious but he also looked like he could cry, he looked frightened and panicked and a dozen other things that were amalgamating to cause him pain that had no direct cause. Jean-Luc moved closer and raised his hands to cradle Q's face, looking him pointedly in the eye.

"You will," Jean-Luc pressed on. The sky was quivering. "You must. You promised you would, do you remember? On Starbase 74?"

A rumble shook the sky above them, sending potent vibrations down into the earth. Q's eyes momentarily lost their affronted edge, his expression loosening into vague surprise and shock. Jean-Luc barreled forward, not giving him a moment. "I died on Starbase 74. You brought me back to life, you altered the universe to save me. And you agreed to discuss it with me, to discuss my mortality. Q," Jean-Luc gently pulled Q closer, touching their foreheads together. The air around them grew very warm. "I  _need_ you to remember. I need you to come back to me."

The air went still and the buzzing sound became shrill and numbing. Q groaned and pushed Jean-Luc away, stumbling with the effort, his eyes sweeping the park in confusion. He looked dazed, misplaced, before moving his gaze slowly back to Jean-Luc.

Something clicked into place and the atmosphere rotated like the dying hands of a clock and then stopped. Jean-Luc's breath caught in his throat.

"Picard," Q murmured, wide-eyed and motionless where he stood. " _Mon capitaine_ ," he corrected, though with none of his usual fondness, and Jean-Luc could truly see the change that occurred behind his dark eyes, the intense glimmer of familiarity that had been absent for what felt like years. It  _had_ been years, technically, but time didn't mean much right now. All that mattered was that he was staring at Q and Q was staring back at him,  _his_ Q, the Q he'd been missing long before he'd ever realized why.

"Q?" Jean-Luc heard himself asking faintly. For a moment he almost lost every shred of resolve he'd accumulated over the last few days and came to pieces, his eyes threatening to spill tears, limbs threatening to give out on him. He managed to hold himself upright and together, taking note of the odd stillness that continued to permeate the park. The breeze had completely died. Nothing moved, not the leaves on the trees, not the water, even the stars ceased their soft blinking.

And then, the backlogged pain resurfaced.

It was immediately apparent from the way Q's back bent over, his face screwing up, his hands flying to his head and grabbing hard at his scalp. Urgency returned. Picard flew to Q's side, holding tight to his shoulders to support him.

" _Amanda! Quenton!_ " he called, hoping now more than ever that this vague plan had some hope of success.

Jean-Luc felt two things as soon as he called out. First - and with a fair amount of relief - Jean-Luc felt the floodgates of his consciousness open up for the first time since he'd recovered his memories, free to find and seize its long-lost counterpart. Second, he felt Q's mind touch his own, tempestuous though it was, bringing with it the dragging pain that had brought them here to this world in the first place, the hulking mass of Q's anxiety. It pressed down on him, grinding against his bones, but the worst of it lifted away before it became too much, echoing just out of sight but in danger of crashing down at any moment. He wasn't certain how much longer the younger Q could keep the pain from tearing them both to pieces, and he wasn't keen on testing the duration or durability of their powers.

When their eyes next met, Picard could clearly see the click of realization in Q's eyes, the ethereal glint of intensity that had been muted for so long. An enormous and terribly familiar presence burst into the atmosphere like a fork of lightning, filling up the empty space between them, rebuilding the beautiful pool of thought that used to link them. Jean-Luc's consciousness sang.

"Q," Jean-Luc reclaimed Q's face, searching his eyes, their minds surging and twisting together in an almost-desperate frenzy to get reacquainted. Q looked dazed, his hands mildly shaky and clamping onto Jean-Luc's shoulders to keep himself grounded. "Q, talk to me. Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

Q's gaze centered on Jean-Luc with difficulty, but it seemed sharing Jean-Luc's consciousness was having a clear effect on him, sharpening his focus and clearing away the clouds. "What- What's happening?" Q panted, casting a furtive glance around them at the bench, the tree, the lake and everything in-between. As each second passed, Jean-Luc could feel the blocks of Q's infinite memory building themselves back up, reordering, fitting shakily back into their respective places. "What… this place, what is this place?"

"Q, listen to me, we don't have much time," Jean-Luc said with urgency. "You created this world for the two of us, do you remember? We need to leave, but first I need you to focus on my mind, I need you to use whatever I can offer you to quell this pain you're experiencing. This pain, this disorientation, we can manage it together, I promi-"

The world closed in around them and the air left Jean-Luc's lungs before he could finish his sentence. Everything went black but his consciousness remained alert as ever, his body displaced from the park by the lake and carefully placed elsewhere. The world came into focus very suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, a familiar room laid out before him. Their bedroom. The bed was still unmade, Jean-Luc's shirt cast over the back of the chair by the small corner desk, Q's shoes dropped carelessly by the bedside table, every item exactly where he'd last seen them.

For a fleeting moment he was unsteady on his feet. He felt too light, like a massive weight had been lifted from him and he was in danger of floating away. His mind was still open and swimming freely with Q's, absolving him of the fear that Q had reset everything. Somehow, the oppressive pressure that had been working to pulverize his mind was absent.

Jean-Luc cast his eyes around for Q. He found him standing stock-still by the window, staring out at the hilly road beyond their garden, tightly hugging his own arms in a way that made him look much too small.

"Q?"

Q's shoulders stiffened but otherwise he remained still. "I was happy here with you." he said, and then said nothing more.

Jean-Luc watched him carefully, his mind thrumming with longing for closeness, for contact. Q was sending him back similar desires, but there was a tense wall of uncertainty that was holding him back. Jean-Luc understood, he really did, but more than anything he wanted to knock down that last wall and sooth Q in any way he was able.

"We were happy  _before_ we came here," he offered gently. "At least, I was."

Q huffed a laugh that sounded tight in his chest. "Any happiness we had together was about to end."

"You don't know that."

"Oh Picard, you optimistic thing, it was inevitable. Be it the Continuum or your Federation - or perhaps even my own arrogant foolishness - some way or another what we had was bound to end." Q glanced away from the window to run his eyes fondly over the room, sheepishly avoiding Jean-Luc's gaze. "And apparently, I did not deal with that prospect very well."

Jean-Luc stepped forward, deliberately putting himself in Q's eye line. "You've gone and decided that the battle is lost before you've even put up a fight," he said. "This situation is not as hopeless as you've made it out to be, Q."

"The Continuum was concerned that you were polluting me, that my feelings for you were a danger to the rest of the Q, but they had it backwards. It's I who have polluted  _you_ , darling. I see that now."

"What the devil are you talking about?" Jean-Luc demanded.

Q turned to face Jean-Luc with a sullen expression, his mind bubbling with discomfort. "I visited La Barre - the  _real_ La Barre. I visited you when you were just a boy."

Jean-Luc lowered his gaze, grasping at his early childhood memories. As those memories had recently doubled, it was difficult to remember specifics. "I don't remember you," he said.

"I had feathers." Q said with a wry smile. "It was a fleeting encounter. But it was enough for me to realize that our bond was just as potent in your childhood as it would come to be decades later."

Jean-Luc rubbed his forehead, frowning. "Q, I don't understand what you're saying."

Q's expression became uncharacteristically soft and apologetic. He closed off the aching distance between them, reaching out to touch Jean-Luc's face, his shoulders, all the way down his arms until he grasped Jean-Luc's hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs in slow circles over the tops of his hands. Jean-Luc allowed a slow, unsteady sigh to pass his lips, his eyes falling closed with the relief of their closeness.

"I told you once that my existence begins and ends with you," Q said, giving Jean-Luc's hands a gentle squeeze. "That remains true, but it appears I've derailed the order of your life in a similar way. With disturbing efficiency."

"You listen to me," Jean-Luc said in a vaguely threatening tone, " _I'll_  decide what is or isn't disturbing when it comes to my own life. I don't find anything about what you've just told me distasteful in the slightest."

Q grinned weakly. "You flatter me, but I don't think you understand the magnitude of the implications. This pollution the Continuum is so afraid of goes deeper than even  _they_ realized. Our relationship transcends time, and our bond is strong enough to punch a hole through the Continuum."

"If the situation were different, that would sound terribly romantic," Jean-Luc pointed out, trying to ignore the persistent burning behind his eyes. He hated how this felt. It was like they were getting ready to say goodbye, but the prospect of saying goodbye to Q in any shape or form was too absurd to consider.

"Is that all you have to say?" Q asked incredulously, raising a hand to touch Jean-Luc's face once again, tracing the pads of his fingers over his cheek and jaw. "I just told you I've contaminated your entire existence without your permission or knowledge. I've  _changed_  you. You are something more than what you were, and it's because of me. Because I didn't do enough to prevent it."

Jean-Luc managed a soft smile. "I've recently woken up from a second life, Q, and it's not even the first time that's happened to me. Learning that I've had a latent bond with you since birth is not exactly jarring."

The corner of Q's mouth tugged in a fond smile, his thumb tracing feather-light over Jean-Luc's bottom lip. "Oh how I've missed you,  _mon capitaine_ ," he sighed, his voice low and quivering in fragile despair. ( _More than words can say_.)

Jean-Luc was dangerously close to giving himself away to his own overwhelming grief, as well as Q's. It was a strange sort of sadness, the kind born from an exhausting cycle of concern and relief and euphoria that had been so prevalent within both of them for so long now that he felt fit to burst with it all. Nothing was fair and the universe  _was_ against them and all of Picard's insistence that everything would be just fine so long as they 'worked together' was beginning to crumble under the reality of what awaited them outside this little dimension. Q's consciousness curled around his emerging anxieties just as Q's arms pulled Jean-Luc into a tight embrace, his chest heaving with a heavy breath, his nose buried in Jean-Luc's shoulder. Jean-Luc felt his muscles turn to jelly and he hugged his husband as hard as he could with what remained of his strength.

They stood in silence for a time just holding each other, breathing each other in, reacquainting themselves with the feeling of reality, a word that had lately lost much of its meaning for both of them. Jean-Luc swore he could fall asleep like this, just absorb himself in Q's arms and forget everything that troubled him. Q's mind was firing those same intentions back to him, whispering his desire to let Picard rest, to gift him the opportunity to be weak.

"I am inclined to beg your forgiveness." Q said after what seemed like hours, his voice muffled against the skin of Jean-Luc's neck, his fingers clenching the back of Jean-Luc's jacket. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Truly I didn't."

"I know."

Q squeezed him a fraction harder. "Well… maybe I did. Unconsciously, of course."

Jean-Luc laughed through his nose. "I know."

"You aren't angry?" Q's voice was practically a squeak.

"I believe you can see for yourself how ridiculous that question is. I can hardly be angry at you after what you've been through." Jean-Luc nuzzled Q gently and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. "Now that I have you back I can't possibly fathom being angry with you ever again."

Q's soft laugh broke off into a half-sob. No more was said for several moments.

Slowly and reluctantly they separated from one another, more out of necessity than anything else. Now that Q had his memories back, Jean-Luc's exhaustion was creeping up on him like a predator he had long been outwitting. As his legs began to quake Q led him to the bed and they sat down, hands still entwined, their emotions turbulent but  _together_ , which made everything else slightly more tolerable.

"You're fatigued," Q observed gently, caressing a finger along his cheekbone.

"Aren't you?" Jean-Luc chuckled, catching Q's hand and kissing his palm affectionately. "You've been maintaining this world for some time in a state of advanced emotional distress, I can't imagine what it's done to you." A sudden realization hit him and his head jerked urgently in Q's direction, watching him in concern. "Q, how is the pain gone? Amanda and Quent- err, Q, as in, your son? - they were here, I asked them to step in if your memories truly started to return to try and stave off the worst of it until I could-"

"They're gone." Q cut him off, catching the stab of horror that no doubt flowed from Jean-Luc's consciousness at the poor phrasing. "I expelled them," he corrected, "I had a split-second of disorientation when it all came back. I thought they were threats."

"But they're unharmed?"

"Yes. Don't worry."

Jean-Luc sighed in relief, staring down at his hands in his lap. He was eager to thank both Amanda and Quenton for all they'd done, for everything they potentially risked on his behalf. He breathed a deep, stabilizing breath through his nose, grateful that he was sitting down. The room was beginning to spin on the outer edges of his vision. "So then, the pain…?"

Q watched him for a moment in silence. "Gone." he answered simply. Jean-Luc frowned at him.

"How?"

"A moment of clarity, perhaps," Q said vaguely. His expression was oddly earnest and intensely focused on Jean-Luc, his mind space just as sharply concentrated. His consciousness was oozing protectiveness, assessing Jean-Luc's mental and physical state with equal attentiveness. Q's eyes softened and he raised his hand to cradle the side of Jean-Luc's face, brushing his thumb along his cheek again, like he couldn't touch enough. "So. We're married, huh."

Jean-Luc allowed his eyes to fall closed, issuing a contented smile. "A uniquely mortal practice, I know. I'm sure the Q don't have anything like it."

Q snorted. "Not even close. What use would we have for it? Such a silly little mortal ritual." Despite his words, the emotions swirling in their bond were overwhelmingly sentimental. "Marriage agreements exist for two reasons in nearly every species: procreation and prestige, two things that the Q either have no need for or have an overabundance of. Yet somehow, someway - if a race survives long enough to enjoy social progress - it always evolves into a celebration of true love." Q's words were lacking the not-so-subtle mockery that tended to accompany his colorful opinions of mortal concepts. He lowered his gaze. "Absurd, isn't it."

It didn't sound like a question, nor did it feel like one. Jean-Luc's fatigue was closing in on him, boxing around his vision like binoculars, an ancient human tool that he now knew a fair bit about. It struck him then how strange it was that this exhaustion still plagued him, how easy it would be for Q to banish it now that he presumably had his powers back and was free from the debilitating pain. The idea of 'goodbye' was starting to seem more plausible. Jean-Luc leveled Q a severe look.

"Q-" His vision flickered. He swayed, but Q caught him and pulled him close, breathing lightly against the shell of his ear.

"I enjoyed it," Q murmured in a tight voice. Like he was trying to keep from succumbing to that despair that the both of them were sharing. "Being your husband, I mean." Jean-Luc's concern mounted and he tried pushing Q away, to stop whatever was happening before it was too late, but the strength drained from every part of him and all he could manage was to bring his hands up to press fruitlessly against Q's chest.

"Q, take us out of here," Jean-Luc said with as much urgency as he could muster. "We need to… to go back."

"I created this world for you, Jean-Luc. I don't even think I was meant to exist here originally." Q continued apologetically. "I sentenced myself to an empty existence maintaining this world to keep you safe, a world I allowed you to mold to your content. But somewhere along the way, you pulled me in and gave me form. Endless possibilities for a potential mate and you still chose me. You love me  _far_ more than I deserve."

"We need to go  _back-_ "

"You will." Q held him more tightly. Jean-Luc could feel him tremble, could feel the deep shiver of despair vibrating through Q's human vessel. No. Something was wrong, something- ( _It's all collapsing now. You can't stay. But oh, how I wish you could_.)

It took an enormous amount of focus to be able to speak telepathically, but it was quickly becoming even more taxing to speak out loud.  _You are Q,_  Jean-Luc pointed out humorlessly,  _If you wish something, it simply is._ He paused, his breath hitching with a sob. _Q, don't do this._

( _I don't have a choice_.) Q answered him gently. ( _If the Continuum was planning on sparing me before, I guarantee you I've since exhausted their graciousness. You're not safe here anymore, nor are you safe with me. There is too much of a risk. I'm so sorry,_ mon capitaine _. So sorry. This is not how I wanted it to end... To be more precise, I didn't_ want  _it to end_.)

 _Stop this immediately._  Jean-Luc battled his rapidly fading consciousness, trying and failing to grasp for the awareness that was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.  _I'm tired of this game, Q. Heroism doesn't befit you. Not even a little._

Q pressed a kiss to Jean-Luc's neck before pulling away just enough to rest their foreheads together. ( _No games this time. You're going and I'm staying, that's all there is to it. As soon as this world collapses, the Continuum will swoop in and decimate whatever's left_.)

Jean-Luc was clinging to consciousness with sheer determination alone.  _Q, I will_ not  _leave you here to-_

( _Yes you will. You were right, I can't keep running anymore. But if you think I'm going to drag you into the fire with me, you've obviously neglected to notice my remarkable distaste for allowing harm to befall you_.) Q's hands found the curve of Jean-Luc's jaw and affectionately cradled his face, inclining his head to connect their lips. As the sensations of the world around him quickly fled, Jean-Luc could feel the press of Q's mouth with perfect clarity. Soft warmth enveloped him, Q's mind ushering in a feeling of comfort and tenderness that seemed almost cruel in its sincerity.

This was wrong. Something was different,  _Q_ was different. The last time their minds connected, Q had been in utter chaos, his mind surging so violently that Jean-Luc didn't have a prayer of mollifying the storm. What changed? How could he possibly look at this situation so calmly?

There was only one answer, of course, and the very idea of it sent Jean-Luc into a dejected spiral. Q had given up hope. Jean-Luc knew how quickly you could become objective when you were left with only one viable option.

Jean-Luc clutched at Q's sweater, unable to contribute to what might be their last kiss in any meaningful way. Q didn't seem to mind. He embraced Jean-Luc again, pulling a deep breath into his chest and releasing it in a shaky sigh.

( _Adieu,_ mon capitaine _. I know you're not usually in the habit of engaging in self-condemnation, but I want you to know there was nothing you could have done to prevent this. You loved me, and that was enough. I have no regrets_.)

His senses were dulling. Jean-Luc could no longer feel Q's arms around him, and his mind was growing quiet, their connection pulling apart with careful, almost surgical precision. The future scar this would leave already burned on the innermost recesses of Jean-Luc's mind. The world was dissolving around them, and Q was sending him somewhere else, somewhere far away, somewhere Jean-Luc didn't want to be.

Just before he tipped into the blackness of nowhere, Jean-Luc could feel Q's love for him resonating deep in his bones, in the very core of him, the place where he knew Q would always be. And then their connection snapped.

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"I'm sure he does, but if he becomes bored? If he decides he's tired of adhering to Starfleet regulations?"

A voice. There was a voice floating to Jean-Luc from somewhere, accumulating clarity by the second, becoming something real and tangible in his ears. Tension was heavy in the air, but he couldn't remember exactly why or to what end. Picard sat at a desk -  _his_ desk, he realized - his muscles tense and his palms pressed hard against the desk's smooth surface as though he'd been preparing to spring up. Why was he so agitated? His mind was in a fog but his senses were sharp as a whip, hyper-aware of the off-key atmosphere, taking note of his surroundings. His ready room on the  _Enterprise_. Why was he here? Where had he just been before...?

"I should tell you, Jean-Luc, that I've filed a query regarding this… situation." The voice that spoke to Jean-Luc was very close, very loud, and altogether unwelcome. An unwelcome face accompanied the unwelcome voice, a face Jean-Luc almost didn't recognize as someone he knew. The familiarity crept slowly back as though the scene were playing out in slow motion. A man sat on the opposite side of his desk, his brow drawn in a scowl, his complexion tinted slightly pink in irritation. He did not seem to notice Jean-Luc's momentary disorientation, but Jean-Luc felt strongly that something was very wrong. The man continued. "I don't believe there is room on a Federation starship for a creature like Q."

The words hit him like a blow to the head. The tension and the anger, this had all happened before. Admiral Phillip Danvers. This was the discussion they'd had in his ready room right before Q appeared and-

It all came back. All of it, every emotion and sensation right up until the end, when Q had sent him back to this moment in his timeline. Somehow, his memory hadn't been wiped or altered; he'd simply been placed back into his life before he'd been snatched away to a world without space travel or alien entities with God-like powers or any likeliness that their relationship could be ended by otherworldly forces.

Jean-Luc stood up, his heart in his throat, his eyes searching the ceiling and the corners of the room as though Q would burst out from his clever hiding place to tell him it had all been a bad joke. Danvers followed his eye line in bewilderment, the prevailing silence clearly going on for longer than he considered natural.

"Just what are we looking at?" Danvers asked, some of his earlier vexation fading in lieu of his colleague's sudden shift in behavior. Jean-Luc's mouth was dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His once-again prosthetic heart was hammering painfully in the cage of his chest and his blood was pumping hot in his ears, his fear mounting. He stepped around his desk, eyes now drawn to the ceiling for reasons he couldn't discern.

"Q?" Jean-Luc called, his voice coming out tight. His mind was racing but he attempted to pour every shred of his intention into his thoughts, projecting his literal heart out. "Q, where are you?"

"Jean-Luc, what in the world…" Danvers stood up with a soft grunt, smoothing out his uniform. "Calling him here will do no good, I hope you understand. If he so chooses, he will have a chance to speak at the hearing-"

"Be  _quiet_!" Jean-Luc snapped impatiently. He could hear the sound of Danvers indignantly stammering behind him, too flabbergasted to shoot anything meaningful back, but some of his obedience may have been born from curiosity as to what was going on. Jean-Luc wouldn't have heard him anyway. Nothing mattered right at the moment. He was still existing between two different lives, two different realities, and this conversation that had already happened so many years ago in another life was no longer important or pressing. Disrespecting a superior officer seemed like such a silly thing to care about.

The silence was horrible. It wasn't just the quiet that fell over the room, it was the silence in his mind. In that other reality he had lived without Q's presence in his mind for years, never knowing why he felt incomplete, and for a fleeting, heartrending moment he had reclaimed that piece of him only to have it ripped away again. It left him feeling hollowed out. Jean-Luc did not feel raw terror often, but oh god he felt it now, creeping along his back and over his shoulders to whisper awful things in his ear.

"Q!" Jean-Luc shouted the name, his hands pulling into numb fists at his sides. The internal silence was deafening. Projecting wasn't working, his voice wasn't reaching anyone or anything aside from Admiral Danvers, who was no doubt frowning at him now in irritated confusion. Jean-Luc felt emotion rise into his throat, cutting off his air.

Without a word, Jean-Luc strode out of the room, his jaw set, leaving the confused protests of Danvers far behind him and avoiding the eyes of his bridge crew as he blew past them to the turbolift. He choked out his destination as the doors slid shut, clenching and unfurling his fingers as the lift carried him to his desired deck. He tried and failed to calm himself down. His brain was bogged down with tension and terror and sadness in proportions he hadn't previously known existed. Jean-Luc closed his eyes, pulling a shaky breath into his lungs and holding it there until the lift doors opened, and he exited on the exhale and marched with haste to his quarters.

Walking inside, Jean-Luc took immediate stock of his rooms. He half-expected everything to be as it was before he and Q had become intimate over a year ago, the small collection of art and alien items gone, the bed transformed back into a standard Starfleet double, the bathroom small and practical again. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse that it was all still there, the tangible proof that his life with Q on the  _Enterprise_  hadn't been some elaborate fever dream. It gave him hope that there was still some way to undo what had been done, as though the memories within these items could somehow summon Q back to him. Like each object was undeniable proof that Q still existed, that the Continuum hadn't done what he feared they'd done.

"Q!" Silence. He remembered a time when he'd been surrounded by mounds of beautiful flowers in this room, calling for Q, demanding he reveal himself and account for his ridiculousness. And then another time when he'd called for him to ascertain things about their relationship, to understand what he meant to Q, and by extension what Q meant to him.

"Q,  _dammit_ , answer me! Please-" Jean-Luc's voice broke off with a sob. He covered his mouth, alarmed at his own weakness. Blinking water from his eyes, he leaned heavily against the wall. He recalled what Danvers had suggested moments ago, years ago, the fear that Picard's association with Q might compromise his command. He recalled how offended he'd become at such a baseless, ignorant accusation.

Danvers was absolutely right. He was compromised, well and truly, painfully and completely.

Q was gone, and for a beat it felt like nothing else in the universe mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are getting longer and longer I s2g. 
> 
> Oh man. I have to admit that I have completely lost all inspiration to write lately. I might have burned myself out, I don't know, but it's been difficult to even edit chapters let alone write. It doesn't help that I've been plagued by almost daily migraines lately, so it's been hard to focus on a screen for any amount of time. As a result, the last few chapters will be a little more spaced out, unless I suddenly bounce back from this in the next couple of days lol. I only have 2 chapters left to write, so hopefully the delays won't be so bad. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read my series this far, and thank you to all the people who have encouraged me with their wonderful comments and reviews. You have no idea how much all of that has meant to me!! (●♡∀♡)


	14. Chapter 14

Once upon a time, Jean-Luc's quarters were quiet.

In Starfleet, there were not many things that were absolutely certain. Flexibility and an innate ability to adapt to changing circumstances were part of the job. Picard never minded his topsy-turvy life, in fact he thrived on adventurous turmoil, which was why a life in the vineyards never suited him. But despite the turbulence, Jean-Luc always knew he could come back to his quarters for silence and solitude, and that in of itself was an enormous comfort. Reflection and silence were important to him. A chaotic life in space was only livable while being simultaneously counterbalanced by predictable quietude, and Jean-Luc gratefully took those moments when he could get them.

Q loved to disturb him during his rare moments of quiet. Early in their association, Jean-Luc despised him for it. He was a pest, a dangerous annoyance, an even  _more_ dangerous distraction. Somewhere along the way, however, those disturbances became familiar. More recently, they had become desirable. Friendly. Preferred. His private life had gone from voluntary solitude to constant companionship in a very short span of time, sharing both his space and his mind with another creature, and now he sat in a room that was far too quiet.

His head in his hands, the silence boring into him like knives, Jean-Luc tried - for lack of a better term - to get himself together. Wallowing wasn't going to do him any good, and it certainly wasn't going to do Q any good, either. What he needed was a solution, but he couldn't begin to formulate anything useful until he regained some of his hard-earned focus.

 _Breathe. Just breathe. You are Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the USS Enterprise. It is the year…. Merde, what year is it? 23… 2377. It is the year 2377, and we are transporting a Venki ambassador to the Beta Zynaath system for peace negotiations_. His chest swelled with a deep, stabilizing breath and he let it out slowly through his nose.  _You are Jean-Luc Picard and you do not give up this easily. You carry on, you analyze the situation and you find answers. Now find an answer, dammit!_

Easier said than done. Where Q was involved, Jean-Luc had always been at a hopeless disadvantage. Years ago, whenever Q appeared to cause mischief, Picard and the rest of his crew had always been at the entity's mercy, unable to alter events in any consequential way. Over time he had simply come to accept Q's complete and utter monopoly over mortal law and had learned to trust Q not to kill all of them on a whim, but the fact remained that he was ill-equipped to deal with even the smallest of Q-related problems.

_That sort of thinking is absolutely not helping._

Jean-Luc scrubbed his hands over his face and stood up. Perhaps he didn't have any powers, but Q wasn't the only Q out there. Amanda and Quenton…. Where were they? Q admitted to expelling them safely from his pocket dimension, so why weren't they here? Amanda at the very least would have shown up by now to explain the situation or offer advice, so her absence either meant the Continuum had snatched her up or she willingly went back to Q. Still, he had to try  _something_.

He called for Amanda once, and then twice. Only more silence. He thought to call for Quenton, but he doubted his situation would be any different from Amanda's at the moment. Neither of them would leave him in the dark like this if they could avoid it.

So he was alone. That wasn't an absolute certainty at this point, but he needed to operate under the assumption that he was not going to receive any outside help. So what could a human do? How could he possibly begin to assess a situation he couldn't assess, or formulate a plan when he wasn't even sure where, what or when Q currently was?

_Think like a Starfleet officer, dammit, not some tragically inept character from a Shakespearean play. If this were any other situation, the first thing I would do is…._

Jean-Luc tapped his badge. "Picard to bridge."

The reply was brisk. Of course it was, no one else had been misplaced, no one else realized their Captain had been gone for close to seven decades. "Riker here."

"Number One, what is our current course and speed?"

"Currently coasting at warp 3 en route to the Beta Zynaath system," Riker answered promptly. "Is everything alright, Captain?"

"I'm not sure yet." Jean-Luc admitted. "Slow to impulse and begin a long-range scan of the area."

"Aye, sir." A moment's pause and then, "Should we be keeping our eyes peeled for anything in particular?"

"Something unusual, most likely. I'm on my way to the bridge. I'll explain as best I can when I get there." Taking one last look around the room, Picard squared his shoulders, spun on his heel and marched out of the room and into the hallway. He was the Captain again, though he couldn't deny that the Captain had changed.

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When the turbolift doors opened to the bridge, Jean-Luc was greeted by an apprehensive looking bridge crew and an irritated Admiral, the latter stomping to the lift doors before Jean-Luc could step off and effectively blocking his path. Danver's hands were balled into tight fists at his sides, his lips so thin they had simply vanished. "Care to explain yourself?" he hissed quietly. "Or have you conveniently forgotten how you behaved just a few minutes ago, storming out of the ready room without a word like a madman?"

"Phillip, I  _do not_  have time for this," Jean-Luc grunted, shouldering past him. Danvers grabbed his arm, halting him. When he spoke, his voice was furious and hushed.

" _Make_  time," he growled.

Jean-Luc grabbed Danver's hand, prying it off of his arm and leveling him an impatient glare. He realized he must look fairly intense, if the color drain from Danvers' face was any indication. "With all due respect, Admiral, there are far more pressing matters than your wounded pride."

Danvers positively bristled, but otherwise went silent. Jean-Luc released the Admiral's hand and decidedly stepped around him, taking his place in front of the command chair and setting his eyes on the view screen.

"Report on the long-range scan?" he inquired.

"Sensors indicate an anomaly less than three light years from our position," a young ensign with russet skin and sharp eyes answered from the operations console promptly, "it appears to be a spacial flux, but I'm unable to identify what may have triggered it."

"I might have a good idea," Jean-Luc grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Is the anomaly stable?"

"Unknown. All readings are fluctuating but don't seem to be reaching dangerous levels."

"Alter course. Head for the anomaly at impulse, keep a wide berth. Launch a class-1 probe and continue scanning for any changes." The ensign acknowledged and the helmsmen changed their heading. Riker's arms were crossed tight over his chest, his eyes darting from Picard to the view screen and back again.

"Captain?" he ventured. Jean-Luc cast his first officer a look, having nearly forgotten the rest of the bridge was present.

"Senior staff meeting in my ready room. Five minutes." He flashed his eyes to Danvers, who was silently seething behind a professional sneer. Although he knew he might regret it, Picard knew that keeping the Admiral in the dark right now was only going to make everything much worse. He forced the next words out from a tight throat and a clenched jaw. "Admiral, you are  _more_ than welcome to attend."

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Summarizing an entire lifetime in less than three minutes was just about as tedious as Jean-Luc feared it would be. He made sure to leave out any mention of restaurant openings, blossoming romance or proposals by the lakeside, although the stares of his senior staff indicated they could fill in the gaps well enough on their own. Sticking to the bare facts, he relayed to them the fabric of the world Q had created, their own sanctuary from the Continuum, and how his memories were returned to him.

"So let me get this straight… The anomaly  _is_ Q?" Beverly's eyes were wide and her ruby lips were parted in disbelief. She turned to the window to give the anomaly another look, but it couldn't be seen from the port side. "Are you sure?"

Jean-Luc was certain Q would be pleased to know that even after he'd become a harmless, friendly presence on the ship he still managed to surprise and horrify the crew from time to time. "I don't know for certain. I think it's more likely that he's closed himself inside it."

Riker shifted in his seat. "You said the world he created was collapsing in on itself. Surely Q wouldn't…" He cleared his throat, "...stay on  _purpose_ , would he? Could Q be in any actual danger?"

It was hard to sound Captainly when addressing the possible demise of someone he loved more than anyone he'd ever loved in his life. Deanna seemed to notice his distress, her brow pinching knowingly and her mouth going very thin. "I wish I could say." Jean-Luc sighed. "Given everything that's happened, I believe Q is very weak, and that's enough to concern me. I'd like to extract Q from that anomaly before it collapses or before it creates a space-time breach of some kind." He glanced around the table. "Suggestions."

"Is this really necessary?" Admiral Danvers finally spoke, his voice floating from beside the monitor on the wall where he was standing, staring out the window with his arms loosely folded behind his back. "This was precisely my concern, Picard. Q's association with this ship has become a serious danger, and I see no good reason why we should intervene at this time. It is my understanding that the Continuum is more than equipped to deal with this kind of incident. Getting involved might only make things worse."

There were rare moments in life when one could feel the collective focus of a room shift all at once, and Picard could feel it happening now. His entire senior staff was staring at Danvers with tense expressions and vague indignation, subtly exchanging looks among each other, and for a blip Jean-Luc had never been so proud of his ship's officers. Data was the first to speak.

"Excuse me Admiral, but I feel your concerns in this particular case are unwarranted. It seems clear that Q did not intend for this end result, and in fact may require our assistance."

The Admiral turned to stare down the commanding officer with a look of authentic surprise. "Don't tell me," Danvers chuckled disbelievingly, "even the  _android_ has made friends with the entity?"

Geordi's shoulders noticeably straightened and his eyes narrowed. Since the loss of his VISOR, it became quickly apparent that Geordi could effortlessly and unintentionally express every emotion - no matter how fleeting - with his eyes alone, and he hadn't yet mastered the art of subtly. "With all due respect, a  _lot_ has changed in the last year. Q hasn't stepped on anyone's toes or caused any disruptions, and he gets along well with just about everybody. If he's in trouble, we can't just do  _nothing-_ "

"You  _can_ ," Danvers cut him off sternly. "And you will, if need be. We don't have the luxury of launching an elaborate rescue mission at this time, not when we have an ambassador on-board who requires transport. If we don't meet with the Syak representatives in two days, there will be a lot more on the line than a dangerous entity's mental comfort."

The end of the Admiral's sentence was said so flippantly Jean-Luc nearly allowed himself to say something he knew he would end up regretting, so he bit his tongue and reminded himself, loudly, that he was a Captain again and antagonizing the already disagreeable Admiral would only serve to further complicate matters. Jean-Luc reached for the diplomat within him and pulled out the first reasonable argument that came to mind.

"No one is suggesting that we abandon our mission to Beta Zynaath. I gave my word that I would get Ambassador Nazaz to the peace talks safely and on time, and I intend to honor that. But I will not leave without analyzing this situation to the best of our ability. It is the duty of every Starfleet officer to ensure the safety and well-being of every life form whenever possible, even when it might not be terribly convenient."

The Admiral's frown threatened to separate his chin from his face. "The fact remains that we will be sacrificing precious time and resources on what is likely a lost cause," Danvers shot back. "And frankly, Picard, I'm not confident that this Q is worth it. One year of good behavior doesn't expunge the previous seven. He has put this crew at risk numerous times in the past - flippantly, I might add - and he is potentially doing it again, right now."

A plethora of unsavory words rushed into Jean-Luc's throat like bile, but he swallowed them and steeled himself. Fortunately, Data saved him from needing to fish around for a professional response that didn't include curses or cheap insults.

"If we chose to follow your logic, Admiral, nearly every commanding officer in this room, myself included, would no longer be here," he pointed out, his brow raising thoughtfully. "Since my service on the  _Enterprise-D_ began, I have recorded 29 distinct instances in which a crew member has unintentionally put others at risk, sometimes but not exclusively by means of an outside influence. In all of these cases, this crew has expended every possible effort to rescue them short of unnecessarily sacrificing the ship or crew. I fail to see how this situation is any different."

The Admiral shot Jean-Luc a furious scowl. "Are your commanders in the habit of disrespecting their senior officers in this manner?" he asked hotly, the way a child might tattle to a parent after being treated unfairly.

"Commander Data is practically incapable of disrespecting anyone, and he has a valid point." Jean-Luc said. "Regardless of your personal feelings on the matter, Q is technically a civilian and I am prepared to do whatever I can to help him in the time allotted. I'm certain Starfleet would agree that investigating the state of this anomaly would be in our best interest."

Seeming to have run out of points to make, the Admiral fell silent, squaring his jaw, his nostrils flaring. Jean-Luc spared him no more attention and turned back to his commanders. "So. Suggestions."

Geordi sat forward, elbows resting on the table. "Feasibly, I could alter our long-range scanners to pick up bio-magnetic energy and tachyon particles within the anomaly, so that we can better determine what's going on in there. At least give us an idea of what we're up against."

Data nodded sharply. "Furthermore, I believe we may be able to modify a tachyon beam to create a stable stasis field to slow the anomaly's degradation."

Geordi snapped his fingers in inspiration. "That could keep it stable for longer, too. Good idea."

"Make it so," Jean-Luc said, rising from his seat. His officers followed his example. "You have the bridge, Number One. Circle the anomaly and continue scanning. Mr. La Forge, Data, I'll join you in Engineering."

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.

.

Over the next several hours, Picard was a man possessed. Sixteen hours and some odd minutes were all they could spare without endangering their mission to the Beta Zynaath system, so as far as he was concerned, there wasn't a second to waste. Without help from another Q, all he had were the resources available to him, meager though they were for a situation of this magnitude, but giving up was simply not an option. He absolutely had to save Q. Although he didn't feel even remotely capable of accomplishing such an otherworldly task, it had to be done. Something had to work. He couldn't leave Q here like this - if he  _was_ still here, there or anywhere else - no matter what.

The peace talks were of prime importance, of course, but the Captain within him was currently undergoing a frightening division of his ethics. Leaving one life form behind and in distress in favor of saving two warring civilizations from possible extinction was usually a no-brainer. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, practically Starfleet 101. It sounded so offensive to Jean-Luc now. He couldn't imagine his world without Q in it, not anymore. So he focused on solving a problem, not lamenting on the possibility of failure. And if worse came to worse, there were more drastic options to consider, like staying behind on a runabout and leaving the ship and its mission to Danvers and Riker. It might mark the end of his career, but he could care less about that just at the moment.

Picard was sure he hadn't spent so many consecutive hours in engineering in decades. When finally he found he could no longer properly read the equations Geordi was pointing out to him, it was quietly but sternly suggested that he retire to his quarters for at least two hours of rest. Picard protested only until Data wondered aloud what Dr. Crusher might recommend if she were to catch wind of the Captain's refusal to rest after a particularly harrowing and dangerously exhausting experience, which prompted Jean-Luc to stop resisting. The very last thing he needed was an order from Beverly at this most crucial time. He would take two hours over the possibility of more, or infinitely more distressing, being temporarily relieved of command unless he complied.

Before he left engineering, Data and Geordi assured him they would contact him immediately if they hit on anything significant. They both knew how much this meant to him. Picard was too tired and anxious to be uncomfortable over that fact.

Although he knew he should have headed directly to his quarters, Jean-Luc found himself outside of Ten Forward as if he'd been called there by some mystical force. Despite it being the middle of the night Jean-Luc knew that didn't necessarily mean the bar would be unoccupied, but he gave no thought to who else might have been there. He entered to find the space empty aside from a sole woman dressed in royal purple robes standing by the giant back windows gazing out into space, and as soon as he saw her, Jean-Luc felt as though every one of his limbs became ten times heavier.

Guinan's head tilted to view him, her brow scrunched in a wordless apology. There was nothing said for some time, but words didn't seem necessary. Jean-Luc took a few steps toward the window before stopping, feeling vaguely unsteady on his feet, his chest constricting with the threat of unguarded emotion. Fortunately for him, Guinan never minded his emotion, never held him to the same inhuman standards he so resolutely applied to himself, and so Jean-Luc had no qualms when the Listener slid her hands over his shoulders to pull him in for a hug.

Slowly, shakily, Jean-Luc embraced her, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that he allowed himself to be embraced. For the first time in hours he felt he could take a breath, but in the same moment it felt like everything else was in danger of shaking loose and breaking apart. Guinan squeezed him tighter, rubbing his back in small, soothing circles, her touch hypnotizing and comforting in equal measure.

After what seemed like hours they pulled apart. Jean-Luc was ashamed to find his eyes were burning, but Guinan thankfully didn't acknowledge it and instead led him to the nearest table, sitting him down and stealing the seat opposite him. Jean-Luc placed his hands on the table, avoiding her eyes.

"How much do you know?" he croaked.

"Enough," Guinan replied gently. "Had a few engineers in here a few hours ago, after their shift was over. They're worried. Can you believe that? Worried about Q. If I didn't know any better, I'd say we'd slipped into an alternate reality."

Jean-Luc's lips tugged into a weak grin. "I honestly didn't know he had made so many friends. I thought it was just Data and occasionally Geordi."

"It is, mostly. But you know, we've all gotten used to him." Guinan sought out Jean-Luc's hand and gripped it, applying that same soothing method as before with her thumb, tracing slow circles over his knuckles. "And it isn't just that. This crew cares about you. They care about you and they like seeing you happy, and Q makes you happy. Your steps aren't as heavy when he's around."

Once again he was too exhausted to be disturbed by the potential news that his extensive crew had knowledge of his relationship with Q. Then again, he supposed it was inevitable. He  _was_ different, he knew that now. Q had changed him. He'd never known a happiness quite like what Q so effortlessly gave him, and he'd changed Q just as much. The thought soured his stomach. Q gifted him happiness and joy, but considering all that had happened, he couldn't claim he'd been so kind in return. All he'd managed to forge within Q was anxiety and pain, the likes of which a Q wasn't ever meant to know.

Guinan's thumb ceased its methodical path and she gripped his hand urgently. "Picard, I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. It isn't like you to twist the truth."

"Well, I haven't quite been myself lately." Jean-Luc answered with a humorless chuckle.

"I'm sure I'll get the full story later, but for now you need to allow yourself some rest. They know what they're doing down there, and you'd better believe they're not going to settle for 'we tried'. If there's a way to get Q out of this situation, they'll find it. You have to trust them."

Picard rubbed his forehead, mostly to hide the fresh wave of tears he was too weak to suppress. "It isn't them I don't trust," he pointed out. "Q doesn't want to be saved. He thinks it's better for both of us if he… He thinks it's better this way." He paused, his throat squeezing tight. "It isn't. It isn't better."

Nothing more was said. Guinan's thumb resumed its strangely calming rotation, and Picard closed his eyes to rest. He wasn't sure he could go to his quarters. Normally he preferred to be alone with his thoughts, but lately 'alone' wasn't as welcome as it once was. Guinan seemed to understand. She held his hand in silence, becoming the very presence he needed her to be. He would have thanked her if he'd been certain he could speak without crying, but he wasn't, so he didn't.

Suddenly and without ceremony, a familiar feeling overwhelmed his senses. Jean-Luc's eyes snapped open and his stomach did a painful somersault, blood rushing through his veins and screaming in his ears. He felt it, a muted presence on the ship, something that hadn't been there moments ago. Out of instinct his consciousness strained against his skull, reaching out for what had been unfairly taken away, but it did not join with anything, nor did the presence  _feel_ like Q. Guinan's hand went slack, and Jean-Luc snapped his gaze to hers, noting the crease in her brow and her slightly parted lips. She felt it too. Jean-Luc's mechanical heart jammed into his throat.

"It isn't Q," Jean-Luc choked out, because he absolutely knew he couldn't waste a single moment to false hope, but maybe, just maybe, it was the next best thing.

"Another Q," Guinan finished his thought, releasing his hand. "You need to go."

And he did, exhaustion be damned.

Picard was flying out of Ten Forward and moving through the ship as if on a track. He didn't dare think about where his feet were carrying him. If he did, he knew it would only delay him. He was moving purely on instinct, whatever part of his brain that had become sensitive to Q energy as his only guide. And it was leading him directly to his quarters.

He reached deck 8 in record time, his chest heaving but his stride steady and sure, his heart hammering a savage pattern into his ribs. His door slid open and Jean-Luc rushed inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the source of the energy. A familiar figure sat on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, idly twirling their purple flower in his long fingers. Jean-Luc's breath caught in his throat and his chest constricted, not because he was relieved to see Q safe and sound, but because he  _knew_ it was not Q, not  _his_ Q, and he was furious that another Q would presume to be him.

Q's dark eyes trailed from the flower to Jean-Luc, his brow arching in greeting. " _Bonjour, mon capitaine_. You've kept me waiting, how rude!"

Hearing that voice after so many hours of stress and quiet despair was almost more than Jean-Luc could bear, especially when he knew it wasn't real.

"What is this?" Jean-Luc's throat was almost too tight with anger to force proper words out, but somehow he managed it. "Stop this immediately. I know you're Q but you are  _not_ the Q you appear to be, but if you are masquerading as him you must have some insight on where he is, am I correct?"

The imposter's lips twitched slowly into a smile. He dipped his nose into the flower and took a deep breath, sighing in satisfaction. "So beautiful and delicate," he said, still in Q's voice. "Hard to believe he deliberately made something so grossly sentimental." In a flash of light the figure changed. A tall, sultry woman now sat in Q's place with a satisfied - if not slightly smug - smile on her ruby lips, flippantly twirling the  _abiding redamancy_  in her slender fingers. She was still dressed in Starfleet red and a long, lovely fall of rich chestnut hair draped over her shoulders. Her sharp eyes rose to meet Jean-Luc's, staring at him with vague amazement. "How did you know?" she asked in a drawling, unamused voice.

"I just did," Jean-Luc grated out, too impatient to humor an unfamiliar Q with useless information. "You must know what's happening to Q, if you're here pretending to be him. Are you here to help?"

"Help?" the woman tossed her lovely head back and laughed, good and long, before flicking the flower back to its vase and hopping off of the desk. She drew her arms behind her back, leveling Jean-Luc an intimidating stare. "Hardly. Q's caused me enough grief recently, he can stay in that little dimension of his until every sun in the universe burns out for all I care. But he doesn't have the power to do that, of course. The Continuum will break in soon enough."

It had been established to Picard at this interval that this Q was not a friend to his Q - or if she was, the Q had a very unique connotation of friendship - and therefore he couldn't expect unprompted assistance, or any assistance at all. But still-

"You came," he said accusingly, stepping closer. "If you didn't care what happened to him, you wouldn't be here."

"Not entirely true," she pointed out curtly. "I'm here for you, actually. On Continuum orders."

Jean-Luc stopped, frowning. "Me?"

"Yes." Q arched an elegant brow, her lips pursing. "In light of recent events, the Continuum saw fit to inform you of their decision. We have decided to execute Q."

Jean-Luc's blood went very icy and his throat very dry. His despair threatened to override his other senses, but thankfully a shred of his critical thinking skills prevailed. "You can't expect me to believe that you came here just to tell me that. The Continuum wouldn't think that worthy of their time."

The female Q eyed Picard critically for a moment before slowly folding her arms over her chest. "I'm beginning to see what Q sees in humanity, if only a little. You're not nearly as dimwitted as I expected." She sighed deep through her nose. "There is another reason for my visit. I was tasked to offer you a choice."

"A choice?" It was taking every ounce of strength Jean-Luc had left within him to stop his hands from shaking. His blood was pounding so fiercely in his ears he could scarcely hear anything aside from the muted sound of his own voice. "What sort of choice?"

Q sauntered to the center of the room, flicking her wrist at the empty space beside her. At her gesture a structure began to form from the floor up, a wooden frame weaving through the air rather theatrically before a door filled itself in, ending with an elaborate, golden doorknob blooming from the deeply carved wood like a rose. Jean-Luc stared at it, then back to Q, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"What's this?"

"It is your choice." Q said airily, as if it were obvious. "We are not wholly unjust. The Others understand that this is an unusual situation, so this is our solution. We are giving you the opportunity to save Q's miserable life."

Jean-Luc went very quiet, but his mind buzzed loudly with panicked unrest. Every nerve in his body was vibrating and threatening to shake him apart, his exhaustion hitting him like a wave. In lieu of answering, he focused on swallowing his heart back into his chest where it belonged.

Q gestured to the door the way one might showcase a prize they could win. "You have two choices. It's simple, really. Walk through this door, and the Continuum will spare Q."

Half of him didn't even want to question it. There was a catch, obviously, but he feared if he learned more it would only deter him. The Captain quickly intervened.

"And?"

Q's lips pulled up in a feline grin. "And your existence will be erased from the universe, as will all of Q's memories of you." She clicked her tongue. "Alright, perhaps it's not so simple."

Jean-Luc nodded vaguely. "Why the door?" he asked, feeling oddly numb. "It's not as though you couldn't simply erase me with a well-placed thought."

"Of course we could, but you humans seem to prefer visual representations. When we draw up agreements, we prefer things to be as clear as possible. There's no way to misinterpret walking through a door."

"And what's my other option?"

Q leaned against the door frame, playing absently with a wavy strand of her hair. "Now this one is a no-brainer, if you ask me. Turn around and leave this room. Go back to your crew and your life. The Continuum will destroy Q, of course, but you won't have to live with that information. Naturally, we will erase him from your memories, and you'll never be bothered by another Q again."

It was disturbing how easy it was to choose. Several times Jean-Luc's mind scrambled for an alternative, some miraculous third option that could save both Q and himself while simultaneously driving away the Continuum so that they might be left in peace, but he knew it was useless. He wasn't accustomed to staring down no-win scenarios, but he couldn't deny when he was in one. There was nothing he could do and he knew that. He considered himself capable of outwitting  _one_ Q, perhaps, but not the entirety of the Continuum.

In a way, it was comforting that Q wouldn't remember him. Jean-Luc loved him too much to imagine Q suffering for any amount of time, or blaming himself for the very thing he had been so adamant to prevent. Despite his relief, he couldn't help but feel the terrible sting of that fact, the foreknowledge that all of their time together was going to be swept away as if it never happened. He firmly reminded himself that it was far better than the alternative. He couldn't allow Q to die. The mere thought of it was too much to bear.

A memory from a conversation that now felt decades old resurfaced in Jean-Luc's mind, bringing with it all the cold irony of that wooden door standing in the center of his room:  _"Tell me, Jean-Luc. Were our roles reversed and you had the power to save my life at your fingertips, are you saying you would let me die rather than prevent my death? That you would watch my life end when saving me would be as easy as wishing it weren't so?"_

He could have laughed. Oh, if Q could see him now. Jean-Luc wished he could be awarded the opportunity to apologize, to tell Q that he hadn't realized how it felt to be on the other end, what it meant to truly have the power to save someone you loved as much as they loved one another.

Jean-Luc took a step toward the door. He squared his shoulders. "So all I need to do is open it and step through, yes?"

Q stared at him for a beat, dumbfounded, before she found her voice. "You're serious?"

"I am."

"You're really going to…?  _Really_? For  _Q_?"

"I thought - correct me if I'm wrong - that you came here to offer me this choice, not question my final decision."

Q's face pinched into an unbelieving frown. "Just think of all the grief he's subjected you to! You wouldn't even be in this grim situation now if it weren't for him and his irresponsible,  _reckless_ behavior."

Jean-Luc pulled a deep breath in through his nose. "I couldn't care less about any of that. And I won't stand here wasting time defending Q's past actions that have absolutely no bearing on the here and now. I love him, and I want him to live. That's why you're here, isn't it? To give him a chance to survive?"

Q's eyes searched Picard with frightening intensity, her jaw tightening as though she were biting back words. Finally she appeared to relent, stepping several centimeters from the door and gesturing to it with an impatient flourish.

"So be it. It only makes sense, I suppose. Q is eternal. Your life has only been a pinprick in the magnitude of his existence. I simply wasn't expecting such sound logic from such a primitive, emotional species."

Jean-Luc felt the corner of his mouth tug up. Fleetingly he wanted to explain that logic had nothing whatsoever to do with it, but there was really no point. In a moment it would all be over. The idea of it wasn't as debilitating as perhaps it should have been. He'd lived a good life. He was proud of how he'd lived, and if doing this meant that Q would live, then he'd be proud of how he died, too.

Riker would make an extraordinary Captain. It was about time, anyway. He'd been ready for the Captain's chair years ago, but Picard never pushed him, never  _really_  pushed him. This wasn't the push he'd expected to finally give, but he knew the  _Enterprise_ would be safe in Riker's hands. He would keep their little family together, he would be a Captain that Jean-Luc could be proud of. That was under the assumption, of course, that with his existence erased Riker would still find the Captain's seat of the  _Enterprise_. He hoped he would. He wondered if he could request it, a sort of last rite, but he thought maybe it would be better if he didn't. His crew could find their own way. His existence wasn't integral to their path or their success.

Jean-Luc stepped up to the door, running his hand over the carved surface, pushing his thumb into the indentations. He wished he could see Q one last time. He wanted to hold him, kiss him, tell him with certainty that none of this was his fault. That he was sorry. That he loved him more than he thought he could ever love anyone in his lifetime.

For decades Jean-Luc speculated on why he couldn't maintain a serious relationship, why he was so reluctant to share his life and his heart with someone else. It was because of this, what he intended to do now. When he was young he'd wanted nothing more than to be a starship Captain, and romance could only serve to distract him from his goal and muddle his judgement. It was true, of course, but he'd never considered the upside, the joy and the tenderness love could bring. Q made him feel lighter. Complete. With Q, he was no longer alone. God, he'd been so alone.

His hand found the smooth golden doorknob and he gripped it tightly. No fear. He closed his eyes, imagining Q was there with him, an obnoxiously soft smile on his face, murmuring playfully mocking words into his ear.

In one swift, decisive movement, Picard pulled the door open and pitched headfirst into the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D:
> 
> I come from the shadows to offer you another chapter, dear readers~~ How is everyone?? Anyone watching Discovery?? I have mixed feelings about it so far but I'm not the type to judge things without giving it a fair shot, so I'll wait to really rant about stuff when I've seen a good chunk of episodes probably lol (yes okay I'm trying to avoid the inescapable fact that I've just killed Picard for the second time in this fic, leave me alone)
> 
> ALSO I’M SORRY FOR ENDING IN ANOTHER DANG CLIFFHANGER. The REAL cliffhanger here is if I’ll ever be able to avoid ending a chapter in a cliffhanger honestly


	15. Chapter 15

It didn't feel like dying should. At least, it didn't feel like dying on Starbase 74, but he supposed fire and shrapnel made more of an impact than a magic door and a quiet abyss. And he wasn't  _dying_ , Jean-Luc reminded himself, he was being erased from existence. There was a very big distinction between those two things. Jean-Luc assumed being unmade simply felt of nothing, because soon there will have been nothing to have been unmade in the first place. It was all fairly straightforward, in a grim sort of way.

That being said, the process was taking longer than he thought it might. The fact that he was still experiencing thought in any form meant he still had a place in the universe, which was not the agreement. As he floated in total darkness, disembodied, he wondered worriedly if he'd been misled somehow. To what end he wasn't sure, but it had been several seconds since he'd stepped through that dark doorway and still he had a mind in which to ponder these things. He wondered if the Continuum was going to draw it out as some unorthodox form of torture.

Picard's feet - he suddenly had feet, he realized - touched solid ground, and his eyes flew open. He stared at his surroundings, jaw clenched tight, and then shut his eyes again, reaching up a hand to rub at them. He'd never truly entertained the idea of an afterlife, not human or Klingon or Vulcan or otherwise, but for a moment he was very seriously concerned that he was currently facing the possibility.

 _Now hold on_ , Picard reminded himself,  _if I_ have  _been expunged from existence, there should be nothing left of me to enjoy an afterlife_ or  _have this existential crisis_.

He opened his eyes again. Before him was a hallway that extended farther than he could see in either direction, easily wide enough for a shuttlecraft to squeeze through. The ceiling - or lack thereof, as he could see it no better than the ends of the hall - was impossibly tall and gradually faded into inky blackness. The hall was well-lit but Picard could find no source to the soft white light that cascaded down the intricately patterned walls. The whole place seemed to disregard reality altogether. Picard stood in the center of the hall, crimson carpet under his feet, trying to understand the incomprehensible situation he'd somehow been thrust into.

He raised his hands and flexed his fingers, rubbing his thumbs along the inside of his pointer fingers, testing his own physicality. It felt real. Then again, dreams often felt real when you were in them, and only upon waking and recalling the dream did the falseness seem so glaringly obvious. Taking that into consideration, Jean-Luc doubted he was dreaming. He suspected the Q were involved, because  _of course_  they were involved, but to what end he was still unsure.

With reluctance he rarely felt, Jean-Luc took a careful step forward. When the world around him remained thankfully intact, he took another, and then another, approaching the wall to inspect it. As he came nearer, he realized the wall wasn't patterned with colorful designs as he'd thought; the disparity of colors and shapes were books. Thousands of books - no, millions, more than he could count - lined the endless corridor, no shelving to hold them in place, climbing all the way to the non-existent ceiling. Jean-Luc reached out and ran his fingers over the dusty spines, his eyes catching some of the strange titles: "The Conception of the Universe and Other Tall Tales: Volume 507", "Abstract Gaseous Entities", "Every Action To Have Produced Change", this one looked particularly old, "The Meaning of Universe C", and a collection of books whose titles were in a variety of alien languages, none of which Jean-Luc recognized.

There were far too many books to possibly examine even a small section, but here and there Jean-Luc noticed gaps, blank book-shaped spots that seemed oddly selective in their placement. Jean-Luc slipped his fingers into one such space, between two musty tomes with incomprehensible titles. The air was chilly against his fingers. Lonely.

"Some of our knowledge has been lost." a gentle, familiar voice broke the ringing, cold silence. Jean-Luc spun on his heel to spot Amanda standing cautiously on the other side of the corridor, her arms hugging over her chest, a sad smile shaping her lips. "Not from time, but from interest. The beginnings of the Q, the specifics of our ancient mortality and other such things became unimportant after the Q achieved omnipotence. They forgot, and so they no longer understand."

Jean-Luc stared at Amanda for longer than he should have, his mind reeling from the sight of her. Once he'd made the decision to walk through that door in his quarters he was sure he would never see anyone ever again, so hearing a familiar voice and seeing a familiar face was jarring.

"Where am I?" Jean-Luc asked, almost a whisper. "What is this place?"

Amanda's hands fell to her sides. She looked around as if noticing for the first time where they stood, taking note of the form it took. "The Continuum." she said. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. I couldn't. Quenton and I were…  _briefed_ after we were extracted from Q's dimension. There were variables I didn't know, things that neither of us were aware of." She swiped a stray strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. "It's… hard to explain. But everything will be explained very soon."

It was getting more and more difficult to distinguish reality, and it was giving Jean-Luc a headache. "A female Q appeared in my quarters to give me an ultimatum, she claimed she was following the Continuum's orders. She offered me a way to save Q, if only I-"

"-if you sacrificed your existence," Amanda finished, nodding. She stepped forward and held out her hand for Jean-Luc to take. Jean-Luc was far too dumbfounded to refuse her, and so Amanda closed her hand around his, leading them forward and down the long corridor. "A selfless act. The Q  _love_ selfless acts, which is ironic considering they rarely take part in such things themselves."

"It was a test," Jean-Luc murmured in disbelief. His eyes suddenly went very wide and he nearly stopped walking, but Amanda urged them forward with a gentle tug of her hand. "Q? Is he alright? Have they done anything to him?"

Amanda grimaced. "I've been told not to tell you anything in regards to the trial." She glanced at him to offer a hopeful smile. "But, I don't think it would do any harm to tell you not to worry for now."

It was hard to imagine  _not_ worrying when he was being led through a physical representation of the Q's wealth of knowledge toward a trial being conducted by omnipotent beings with an unfortunate track record for being unpredictable  _and_ unfair, but regardless, Jean-Luc felt a wave of relief hit him like a punch in the lungs. Q was safe. His own life was also intact, at least for the time being. Despite the ominous implications of a Q-crafted trial - a concept he was intimately familiar with - there was the potential for dialogue. Jean-Luc always felt better when communication could be established.

The two of them walked in silence for a time. Picard was grateful for the opportunity to prepare his thoughts and his nerve, but surprised that he was being granted the time to do so. Although previously it looked as if the corridor had no end, Jean-Luc could now see a stark-white opening some thirty meters ahead where the stacks of books came to an abrupt end. At the sight of it, Amanda slowed her pace and released his hand.

"They're impatient," she said, casting a grudging look back at the bright square of light. "You're on your own, now. I can't do anything for you once the trial has begun."

Jean-Luc nodded. He stole a deep breath through his nose, let it out slow, and then gave Amanda's upper arm a firm, reassuring squeeze. Once, Jean-Luc worried that the power of Q would corrupt Amanda, but he could see now more than ever that she had painstakingly maintained her altruistic nature. Her humanity was still intact. He was terribly proud of her, but just at the moment he was also tremendously grateful that she was on his side.

"I want to thank you for everything you've done," he said, determined to get the words out now while the thought was still fresh in his mind, worried he wouldn't get another opportunity. "You have my gratitude. Truly."

Amanda's lips pressed together, her face dusting rose. "It… was the very least I could do," she said sheepishly.

"It was enough. Whatever happens, I get the feeling it would have been much more difficult without your help." Jean-Luc pointed out. Amanda's head tilted down to hide her smile.

"I owe Q. And you and your crew, as well. You welcomed me on your ship during the most confusing, chaotic time in my life, and you were all so kind and understanding, I..." When she looked up, her eyes were glossy. "He's never been happier, you know. It's almost annoying."

Jean-Luc grinned. "Annoying enough to warrant an awful lot of fuss," he said wryly. He released her arm and straightened his uniform. "Well. I mustn't keep them waiting."

"I'll see you on the other side." Amanda said firmly, like a promise. She vanished in a diamond of light.

.

Often when met with a complicated or potentially difficult situation, Picard picked a singular objective to focus on. It was always easier to remain clear-minded if he could concentrate on one particular goal, and if he could achieve it, it was onto another. These objectives tended to stack themselves in order of urgency and consequence, so as to ensure the situation could be resolved as safely or as peaceably as possible. For as long as Jean-Luc dabbled in diplomacy he utilized this method, but now as he stepped past the book-laden walls and entered the bright chamber beyond, he had only one goal in mind, no others.  _Save Q_.

He did not intend to lose Q again, nor ever.

Jean-Luc raised a hand to block out the brilliant light that flooded his eyes, internally cursing the Q's fondness for dramatics. He gave his eyes time to adjust, squinting through the pain, blinking steadily as his surroundings began to come into focus. While Q's Farpoint courtroom was meant to feel oppressive and constricting, the chamber before him now was more like a chancel, ornate and open, the ceiling still too tall to see. The room had a cylindrical shape, easily twenty-five meters across, framed by stunning marble arches and long painted windows. Light cascaded down the back wall to illuminate a raised platform holding six elaborate crimson chairs with tall winged backs behind a sloped table. A Q dressed in familiar red and black judge's garb sat in each chair, all of them disguised as different genders and colors and species, two of which Picard didn't even recognize.

"The defendant will approach the bench," a Q with Vulcan features called out airily, voice echoing throughout the chamber.

Jean-Luc complied without fuss. He stepped into the room, the opening vanishing behind him, halting where the Q indicated. The floor around him shifted and began to methodically spin upwards, lifting him nearer to their level. A round, old-fashioned witness box sprang up around him, caging him in.

"Jean-Luc Picard," another Q began, a bronze-skinned human male, slowly joining his hands together. "Your name is the first to be so widely spoken in the Continuum in over a millennia. I hope you realize that above all, many of us are impressed. Such a thing is not easily accomplished."

There were many ways Jean-Luc expected his trial to begin, but flattery was no where near the list. Jean-Luc straightened his spine and settled into an appropriate scowl. "I'm unsure what reaction you're hoping for," he said, looking between the Q for some visual clue to guide his carefully placed words. Their faces gave him nothing.

Some of the judges exchanged glances. The Q on the far right end taking the form of a Vulcan female raised her brows at him. "You were expecting a long, detailed list of charges, I'm sure," she said with a quirk of her mouth, clearly not respecting the guise she had chosen. "Jean-Luc Picard, do you know why you are here?"

Jean-Luc's arms pulled tight against his sides. "I… have ideas. It was my understanding that my relationship with Q was causing some controversy within your Continuum. You accused me of polluting your dimension, or something to that effect."

"Do you know the nature of the pollution?" asked another, a green-skinned Q with gill-like ridges running along his chin and under his narrow eyes.

"I can't say I do." Jean-Luc replied stiffly. "Q has tried to explain it to me. I've gathered that many of you don't approve of my association with Q. You think it belittles your kind, that it violates the core of what it means to  _be_ Q."

"That is only part of our concern, but not the sum of it," a human female answered stoically. "Surely you must understand why many of us look upon such a relationship as a peculiarity. At risk of offending you, Captain, would you be so accepting if a human acquaintance of yours began an intimate relationship with a…" she glanced away, searching for an example, "...a dog? A monkey, perhaps?"

Jean-Luc might have laughed if he hadn't been so eager to get on with things. "The fundamental difference between the situation at hand and your example is that I am not, in fact, a non-sentient creature. Forgetting the sizable power difference between us, I am capable of understanding Q. I am consenting to our relationship. As risk of offending  _you_ , the Q are not nearly so grandly convoluted as you continue to claim, and frankly I'm growing tired of these unflattering comparisons."

The green Q smiled thinly. "You'll be pleased to know that many of us here in the Continuum choose not to see things that way anymore."

"Yes," drawled the Vulcan, "recent conflicts within the Continuum have left some of us with little  _choice_ in that regard."

The green Q offered her a haughty side-glance before continuing. "The much more pressing issue at hand is the nature of your bond with Q, and what sort of impact it has had."

One of the Q, the only human female among them, flicked her wrist and a large, translucent orb appeared hovering above her outstretched fingers. She gestured vaguely in Picard's direction and the orb floated and bobbed languidly toward him.

"The Q share a consciousness when they are existing within the Continuum." she said. "We pool our thoughts, our experiences, our ideas in this space. It isn't involuntary, I hope you understand. Each of us is able to keep our thoughts to ourselves if we so choose, but since it does not benefit us to do so, our minds continue to shape the Continuum freely."

Within the orb, thin tendrils of snapping energy like electrical discharge fired from every direction, some of them meeting and forming longer branches. "Rarely, a Q will share something new with the Continuum." Another Q continued. "Those sorts of intrusions are usually welcomed, celebrated on occasion, but even more rarely an intrusion will have adverse effects. Mortal emotions and values are… especially damaging." The orb demonstrated by introducing a dark, smoky tendril of energy into the snapping flashes of discharge. Each time the dark tendril came into contact with another, it joined with it, changing its color and consistency. "The Q have no need of them, and furthermore, they can be dangerous to us. Mortal emotion is erratic and consuming. Since we have achieved omnipotence, we have found that mortal emotions in too large a quantity often have disastrous results. Primitive impulses and near limitless power don't tend to mix well, as you've seen."

"How horrible for you," Jean-Luc quipped, waving the orb away. "Pardon me, but I already know this part. Q's feelings for me are causing this reaction within the Continuum. And when it began, you saw fit to threaten Q, pressuring him until he reached a breaking point." Picard struggled to keep his steadily growing irritation from leading him. He needed to remain level-headed. "If I may be blunt, I would have thought an omnipotent race could devise a better strategy than ruthlessly bullying one of their own kind into a depressive spiral in order to resolve an issue."

The green Q sighed deeply and clasped his hands together. "We needed to test him. Assess his mental state."

A rush of hot anger swelled within Jean-Luc, powerful enough to sway his steadfast dedication to his singular goal. "Wait just a moment. A  _test_?" he growled, looking between the Q in disbelief. "All that talk of the various punishments you were considering, all your grand, ominous threats, it was all to  _test_ him?"

"There were things we needed to be sure of," the bronze-skinned Q answered coolly. "It was the best method."

"So you were bluffing the whole time? Threatening to pull as apart, threatening to erase me...?"

"If Q was not faced with real consequences, there was no way we would have been able to ascertain how far he was willing to go to prevent them from happening." the Vulcan drawled. "It's as simple as that."

"Do you have  _any idea_  what you put him through?" Jean-Luc demanded furiously. "He was riddled with anxiety and grief, he could barely  _function-_ "

"You can disagree with our methods all you like, but it was the most effective way to monitor how Q was handling the new emotions." Another Q said seriously. "However, the situation has since changed. Q's mental state is not the source of the unrest in the Continuum. It is you, Jean-Luc Picard."

"Me?"

"As it stands, no mortal has  _ever_ gained access to the Continuum on their own without outside help, and yet here you are. You have achieved it."

Jean-Luc frowned, trying valiantly to smother his fury for the sake of moving things forward. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I've come to learn that mortals have been here before, during your civil war." he pointed out. " _You_  led me here. Another little test of yours. I walked through that door, and-"

"You misunderstand," the green Q said, webbed fingers knitting together to rest on the table. "That was  _your_ test, yes. One of two. We had definite proof of Q's devotion to you, but we needed to be certain of your own resolution regarding Q. You passed of course, but there was a second test, something much more important that needed to be determined. And now it has."

Jean-Luc's mind whirled with possibilities. He ran through the order of events since the female Q appeared in his quarters with careful consideration, but came up with nothing.

"I'm afraid I still don't understand." he said plainly.

"Of course you don't," said an androgynous Q, fair featured with large pale blue eyes. "That door was not a gateway to the Continuum, Captain, anymore than it was a guillotine to your mortal existence. It was only a door. It led nowhere."

Something cold and uncomfortable pressed hard on Jean-Luc's chest. He recognized it as muted panic. "That doesn't make sense," Jean-Luc murmured, more to himself than the presiding judges. "How is it I ended up here, in the Continuum?"

"A good question," the Vulcan Q replied flippantly. "You came here of your own volition. When presented with Nowhere, you moved yourself Somewhere. Your thoughts were of Q and the Continuum, or perhaps the desire to plead your case brought you here to us. Regardless of why, we had nothing to do with it whatsoever."

The cold sensation rattling deep in Jean-Luc's chest spread to rush through his limbs, to the tips of his fingers and toes, rooting him to the spot. He understood the implications, of course, but he couldn't possibly accept it.

"You're joking." he rasped out.

"We wish we were." the bronze-skinned man said airily. "In fact, everything you have seen so far has been molded solely by you, to be perceived in a way you can comprehend. You assumed there would be a trial, and so an appropriate space for that activity was created in your image. Everything you are experiencing is of your own design, down to the last detail. Except for us, of course."

The androgynous Q sat forward, squaring their shoulders. "When your mortal life ended on the starbase, it was felt like a shock wave throughout the Continuum. When we realized you had become aware of the timeline divergence that Q created when he saved you, our concern turned to curiosity. Some of us became aware that you had changed, and suddenly your impact on the Continuum made sense. We called Q to the Continuum to discuss it, but he ignored our summons."

Jean-Luc raised a hand, his other moving to press the crease between his brows. "Are you saying -  _really_ saying - that I have somehow developed Q powers?"

"Not quite," came the human female, "You are not Q, but you could easily choose to  _become_ Q. Your unique exposure to Q has significantly heightened your mental limitations. With very little prodding, you could easily exist as one of us."

Jean-Luc knew he should have been more surprised, but lately there wasn't much that could truly shock him. Neither he nor Q had prepared for something like this, but both of them knew a relationship like theirs was unprecedented and therefore unpredictable. Regardless, this was more than he'd ever accounted for. He had no desire for the powers of Q any more than he wished for immortality, but if this development could somehow defuse the entire situation, he was willing to at least entertain the idea.

"Where does this leave me?" Jean-Luc asked. "And Q? If this was all a test, does this mean that Q is safe? Are we allowed to continue as we have been?"

The Q looked among each other again. "Q's emotional state when confronted with the idea of being separated from you is still a concern. However, if you were to become Q yourself, we can only assume that such turmoil would never plague him again, and we would be willing to allow your relationship to continue."

"We've been open to the idea of a human integrating into our society for some time now," another Q added, "and in terms of candidates, we could do  _much_ worse than you."

"What of our feelings for each other?" Jean-Luc inquired. "Wasn't that your concern in the first place? Whether I'm Q or human should make no difference, the feelings we have for each other are still stemmed in mortal sentiment - romantic love, something you claim you have no need for."

A couple of the Q looked suddenly uncomfortable and mildly fidgety. The pale Q spoke. "Although we remain somewhat divided on this subject, we have decided to rule in favor of those who wish to occasionally experience more...  _unsophisticated_ emotions. As it turns out, this whole situation has encouraged many of us to come forward and admit to dabbling in mortal sentiment in the past, and as yet the Continuum has not collapsed."

A slow breath passed through Jean-Luc's lips, and the panic that tightened his chest began to soften and fade. "Then I refuse," he said firmly. "I wish to remain human. If you've decided that our feelings for one another are harmless to you, then my decision should not impact these proceedings."

"If you are mortal, it is certain Q will become unhinged again." one of the Q pointed out.

"He won't. I give you my personal guarantee that Q's emotional state will be perfectly balanced from this point onward. Well, about as balanced as he ever was, anyway."

"And how can you give us that kind of reassurance?" asked the Vulcan skeptically.

"Because," Jean-Luc said with a soft smile, "there is an important conversation the two of us still need to have. Q has managed to avoid this particular conversation more times than I can count, but he's not getting out of it this time." He looked down at his hands, and said much more softly, "And neither am I."

The Q regarded each other a final time, all speaking among themselves through their shared connection. A few of them nodded, a couple of them sighed with pointed eye-rolls.

"Very well," said the green-gilled Q. "At present, we see no reason to deny you. Although some of us won't admit it," he side-eyed one of the Q who sighed, "humanity has long-since proven to be far less primitive than we originally assumed. Even  _helpful_ , on occasion. Whatever you decide, the Continuum will not interfere."

The relief Jean-Luc felt at those words was nearly debilitating, but his joy hit a wall. He needed Q, he needed to see him and touch him and tell him all of this good news himself.

"What of the pollution?" Jean-Luc asked curiously.

"Much of it will resolve itself if you truly decide to renounce your powers, though not all. I'm sure we can adapt to the changes. We have been taking pains to be more comfortable with the idea of change, though many of us are still not quite so willing."

"And Q?"

"He's safe, of course. When the dimension of his creation collapsed we procured him, and he has been held in an unconscious state. Once he wakes, he'll be perfectly fine, his immortality and powers intact."

His relief transformed into euphoria. It was almost unreal to hear those words after so long, to know that Q was well and truly safe. The exhaustion Jean-Luc had been fighting for what felt like years was sneaking up on him, threatening to claim him at last, but Jean-Luc couldn't fathom taking a rest before seeing Q. "Thank you. If I am free to go - and before I banish whatever powers I still have within me - I have just one favor to ask."

The green-gilled Q sat back and relaxed in his seat. "Name it."

Jean-Luc steeled himself and straightened his uniform. "I'd like to wake Q myself, if I may."

.

.

.

It was an exceedingly rare event for a Q to unwillingly fall unconscious. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that the parameters required to stun a Q into unconsciousness were practically a mathematical impossibility, but somehow Q managed to accumulate more experience with unconsciousness than any other Q in the Continuum by now. Between his short stint as a mortal and his new self-inflicted mortality within his hide-away pocket dimension, Q knew the eerie embrace of sleep very well, like they were old friends - friends who never really enjoyed each other's company. Even when he'd tucked his memories away, sleep hadn't ever felt natural to him. It didn't feel natural now, either, but with his powers and memories returned, it wasn't quite the same as before. He couldn't dream, but he couldn't will himself to wake up, either. His mind was still whirring with activity, but his thoughts were confined to an inky abyss, his essence unresponsive and sluggish like it was stuck in thick tar.

Somewhere in the dulled map of his consciousness, Q wondered if he was dying. After he'd sent Picard back to the  _Enterprise_  to what he  _hoped_ was the correct time and place, the dimension had simply closed in on him and he'd done nothing to prevent it. He was exhausted. It wasn't like him to give up, really, but what else could he do? Even when trying to protect Jean-Luc from the madness he'd plunged them both into, he still managed to muck things up even worse than they were before. Self-deprecation didn't suit him anymore than it suited Jean-Luc, but he was hard-pressed to feel anything but hopelessness about their situation. Picard deserved better than him. Perhaps now he would have the chance to discover that. Q just hoped Jean-Luc could forgive him.

_Good lord, Q. Are these the sorts of thoughts that have been skulking around your mind?_

Something within Q stirred, a light tingle, an echo of something achingly familiar. Q felt nearly like he'd been grabbed by something and pulled. Despite the urgency behind it, the sensation was gentle and warm, like being swathed in pure comfort and safety. Q was too tired to question it, too emotionally drained to fight against it, so he allowed himself to be enveloped by whatever this was, only half-wondering where it planned on leading him.

Q never particularly enjoyed swimming. The first and only time he'd ever considered it worthy of his time was on his honeymoon, in the warm waters of that private beach, nestled away from the rest of the world with only his husband for company.

They'd gone swimming every day while they were there, and when Q first witnessed Jean-Luc wade into the sky-blue water, the sun shining down on his compact, well-muscled body, water droplets clinging to his skin, he realized how incredible the ocean could be. With Jean-Luc, everything was more colorful, more real. That's how it had always been. And just now, as he felt his essence being pulled along, he realized he felt very much like he was swimming. Like being pulled to the surface of the water, his lungs fit to burst, a breath of fresh air awaiting just above that thick layer of bubbles and foam.

Suddenly, everything changed. The darkness that loomed in on him from every side fell away and he could hear a gentle breeze in his ears and felt earth under his body and something soft supporting his head. Q struggled to understand where his sudden physicality had come from, and when he came up with nothing he attempted opening his eyes. Above him was a cloudless sky of brilliant blue and yellow, bright with the midday sun, a ghostly trio of moons arching over the nearby mountaintops. Q's brow scrunched into a frown as his mind raced with a vast number of possibilities, none of which prepared him for the voice that suddenly spoke just out of sight.

"How are you feeling?"

Q's essence surged with potent longing and his entire physical body seized in shock. He realized now the source of the comfort and warmth he'd felt moments ago, but it seemed so implausible he could barely consider it. Jean-Luc's consciousness was once again nestled within his own, so easily and naturally that Q almost hadn't noticed anything was different.

" _Jean-Luc_!" Q's upper body snapped up and he frantically turned to face the man he'd been positive he would never see again. Jean-Luc sat casually in a patch of lush grass, his legs stretched out, ankles crossed, the very picture of relaxation. In place of his uniform was the breezy, colorful costume Q had conjured up for him during their first visit to Yern. With absurd delight Q realized that his head had been resting in Jean-Luc's lap. He could have pinched himself.

"This can't be real," Q forced out, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of his lover beside him. "It's finally happened, hasn't it? I've gone completely off my rocker. Mad as a March hare."

Jean-Luc laughed through his nose. His smile was soft and fond and - more noticeably - calm, more calm than Q currently felt, though he couldn't deny Jean-Luc's tranquility was slowly putting him at ease.

"That remains to be seen," Jean-Luc grinned. Just the sound of his voice made Q's essence burst with billions of bright lights. "But I can assure you this is all very real. We are here together, and we are safe. I promise you that."

Something deep within Q broke. It wasn't the bad sort of breaking, the kind that led to pain and confusion and panic, it was as if an oppressive wall had cracked in half and let something trapped inside of him come loose. His essence swelled and coiled with relief and joy, two sensations that had recently become foreign to him.

Q hurled himself at Jean-Luc, tackling him flat on his back, twining his arms around Jean-Luc's neck as they landed with a thud in the grass. Picard's slightly winded retort was abruptly cut off by Q's mouth, which was working almost autonomously of the rest of him, kissing Jean-Luc with frantic tenacity and desperation. Q's lips and tongue claimed Jean-Luc's mouth in every way he knew how, their pace slowing only after Q could ascertain that all of it was real, that the Jean-Luc he held in his arms was not some sad illusion he'd conjured up in a moment of mental fragility. Jean-Luc further demonstrated his authenticity by pulling Q closer, dipping his tongue in Q's mouth and flooding his mind with comfort and reassurance in the way only he could.

( _It's really you, Jean-Luc. You're really here with me now, safe and sound. What sort of delightful madness is this?_ )

 _The kind that should be familiar to you by now_ , Jean-Luc replied fondly, dragging his fingers lovingly through Q's hair.

With extreme reluctance, Q pulled away, pushing himself up only enough to stare down at Jean-Luc's grinning face. "I'm me, and you're you," he murmured wondrously, his chest heaving with harsh pants out of habit more than necessity. "We're alive. And together. Somehow?"

"That sums up our current status fairly well," Picard answered, gliding his hands contentedly over the bend of Q's hips and up his sides. Q remembered a time when he was vaguely ticklish there.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't do any of this." Q surmised. He offered Picard a pitiful grimace. "...Did I?"

"No, you didn't." Jean-Luc laughed through his nose, gently shifting to brace Q's weight. Q moved to straddle his hips. " _I_  did, if you can believe it."

Q did not often find himself at a loss for words, but currently he felt certain he had forgotten every word in every language. Jean-Luc sensed it within him and laughed, a good and honest laugh. He gently raked his fingernails over the back of Q's neck.

"It's a long story." Jean-Luc said gently. "Fortunately for us, there's plenty of time for me to tell you all about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. FINALLY, SHIT IS GOING RIGHT. REJOICE. THE ROLLER COASTER ENDS HERE. (Well, for the most part lol)
> 
> Prepare for fluff and emotions and all manners of tooth-rotting happy ending shenanigans. THE END IS NIGH. FINAL STRETCH, BABES.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me for this long. There are two proper chapters left and a shorter epilogue, and then that's it! These last chapters may take a little longer than usual, because I still have some writing to do and I don't want to post anything that I'm not totally satisfied with. (And by extension, I don't want to disappoint anyone with sloppy writing lol) But they _will_ come out, hopefully over the course of the next couple of months! :)


	16. Chapter 16

"So." Q anchored his hands on his hips and tilted his chin to the sky. "Let us recap."

"Please," Jean-Luc urged, gesturing for Q to go ahead.

The sun had long since begun to set, peeking over the mountains to cast a deep crimson gleam over the valley. Q paced to and fro in the grass, a knuckle to his chin, his eyes trained on the faint silhouette of Yern's third moon. "First order of business: You tried to kill yourself."

Jean-Luc exhaled an exasperated sigh. "No, not  _quite_. As I understand it, volunteering to have my existence erased is a different matter entirely."

Q barked a harsh laugh, his eyes gliding to Jean-Luc and locking onto him with fierce intent. "Oh yes, forgive me, quite a different matter. Having your existence erased is  _infinitely_ worse than death, you absolute  _fool_."

"I was given a choice between letting the Continuum have you or voluntarily erasing my own existence to satiate them. The answer was simple."

"Simple!" Q tossed his arms in the air. "You were really prepared to throw away everything you've ever done - everything you've ever been - just to save me?"

Jean-Luc laughed through his nose. "Oh  _please_ , Q. Of course I was. I think by now we've both proven ourselves to be entirely hopeless."

" _Jean-Luc_ -"

"Q." Jean-Luc stood up, brushing off his pants, "I can practically see the guilt permeating the air, so I'll ask that you pack that away for now. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, and you've done as much for me. Let's just agree that we're both very,  _very_ bad at remaining objective when the other is facing any degree of danger."

It didn't take much convincing for Q to agree with that very true and mildly unflattering statement. He rolled his eyes, albeit without confidence, and resumed his pacing. "Fine. Second order of business." Q steepled his fingers under his chin. "Apparently, you are now a  _Q_."

"Now don't you go and twist my words." Jean-Luc interjected seriously. "I was told I could choose to become Q if I so desired, but since I have no such desire, whatever powers I've come to develop will be gone. Preferably by the end of the day."

Q offered an apologetic smile. "The days are longer here, you know."

"By supper, then."

Q groaned and laid his head in his hands. "I knew I'd changed you. I just had no idea the changes were so…" he trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

"Profound?" Jean-Luc tried to finish for him.

"Astronomical." Q muttered dismally into his palms.

Jean-Luc carefully pulled Q's hands away and down, clasping them in his own. "Do I seem upset by this particular development?" he asked gently.

Q's eyes found Jean-Luc's again and held, betraying the smallest amount of self-reproach as well as an outpouring of affection and relief. His expression softened. "Not in the slightest, which is a wonder in of itself."

"It's because there's no reason to be upset. None whatsoever."

"Agree to disagree." Q's gaze flicked away, his face scrunching into a grimace. "Why didn't I suspect sooner? As soon as I realized you'd become aware of divergences in the timeline, I should have investigated further. I should have-"

Picard's hand rose to grasp Q's chin and tilt his face back toward him. "I never thought I would miss the days when you were strictly egocentric," Jean-Luc grumbled. "There was a lot going on. You weren't thinking clearly, and neither was I. And seeing as how I can banish these powers at any time-"

"By supper."

"-there is no harm done. So stop concerning yourself with what could have been. I think you've been too influenced by linear concepts."

Q's mouth quirked in a smile. "Perhaps you're right."

Jean-Luc traced his knuckles softly across Q's cheek. "Well, I usually am."

Their heads inclined for a brief but sorely needed kiss, a potent surge of their bond slipping through and gratefully filling their shared mind space that was fully and beautifully merged once again. Their minds buzzed with sparks of every imaginable emotion, all swathed in the exhilaration of being together again. It felt incredible to kiss Q without the uncertainty of their future bearing down on them with crushing intensity. Had the anxiety been there all along? Even at the commencement of their relationship, kissing Q never felt this airy and light, it never felt like a sweet sigh of relief. Perhaps they'd always known this would be something they needed to deal with and overcome, they just hadn't foreseen what form it would take.

When they pulled apart, Q fluttered a sigh and touched his forehead to Jean-Luc's. "The important thing," he began softly, fitting his fingers between the gaps of Jean-Luc's, "is that the Continuum doesn't seem to mind." He snorted in mild vexation. " _How_  is it they don't mind? After all the grief they put me through, all the threats! Those  _self-righteous, pompous charlatans_ -"

"All a test." Jean-Luc reminded soothingly. "Don't worry, I told them exactly how despicable I found it all. Not that it mattered in the least bit to them."

"I think it may have mattered a great deal," Q answered sincerely. He pecked Jean-Luc on the lips again, separated one of his hands from Jean-Luc's but tightened his hold on the other, and started off at a decidedly casual pace along the grassy path.

The valley weaved fluidly between a pair of deep orange mountains before tapering off into dense foliage and trees, too well-packed to comfortably traverse through. The air blowing through the valley was dry and chilly on their skin as they walked along, miles between them and the treeline, surrounded only by the unruly crimson grass and a scattered few gnarled, bent trees.

There was peaceful, companionable silence for a time before Q's mind buzzed with something pressing to say. "I admit to feeling slightly foolish," he began, his thumb tracing gentle circles into the bend of Jean-Luc's wrist, "I made things so much worse, behaving the way I did. Erasing your memories, forcing you into a different life… I'm not sure an apology will ever be enough."

"Don't be ridiculous. You gave me a chance to fall in love with you all over again."

Q offered a strained half-smile. "If the Continuum was trying to test my ability to handle my new mortal emotions efficiently, I'd say I failed in a most spectacular display of idiotic self-destruction. It's a marvel they didn't decide to terminate our relationship on that basis alone."

Jean-Luc squeezed Q's hand reassuringly, sending him soothing reminders through their connection that the worst was behind them now, that they were safe. "They've had a change of heart." Jean-Luc said. "I promised them they wouldn't need concern themselves with matters that ought to be kept private in the first place."

"Oh yes," Q side-eyed him, a brow arched in a mixture of suspicion and interest, "your confidence in me is supremely well-placed. After all, I've been a pillar of willpower and mental resilience up until now."

"This has taken a toll on both of us," Jean-Luc pointed out.

Q's leisurely pace came to an abrupt halt. He raised their joined hands, his eyes falling intently on the way their fingers wound around each other. " _Mon capitaine_ , shall we cut to the chase?" he asked softly. "I can hear you, you know. It wasn't as prevalent an hour ago, but as each second ticks on your intention becomes clearer and clearer." His thumb resumed its lazy circles over Jean-Luc's hand. "You want to talk."

"Yes." Jean-Luc watched Q's face carefully. "I suspect you know what about."

Q's lips pulled into a humorless smile. "A conversation I tried valiantly to avoid. That was selfish of me, I know."

"I'm glad we agree." Jean-Luc quipped.

Q huffed. "If you're going to be rude, I could just stuff us into another pocket dimension again and avoid this altogether."

Jean-Luc couldn't prevent a chortle. "That does seem to be an effective method of shutting me up."

"How about a change of scenery?" Q glanced around them, from the sparse trees surrounding them to the mountains that were shielding them from the sluggishly setting sun. "The palace, perhaps? If I'm going to have to sit through a very unpleasant conversation, I'd rather be-"

In an odd, slightly misshapen diamond of light, they were unceremoniously displaced from the valley and reappeared in the palace's bedroom, deposited neatly on the ornate, round bed once owned by the Grand Ra'an Kirah. The look of surprise on Q's face was Jean-Luc's only indicator that their journey hadn't happened in the usual way.

"...comfortable." Q finished, his eyes still wide and his mouth quirked in an impressed - and vaguely horrified - grin.

Jean-Luc glanced around, trying to discern how exactly he'd done it, how he'd brought them here without even putting any conscious thought into the process. Q powers were disturbingly easy to use. All you needed was to pair an idea with an intention or a destination, and your wish was instantly granted. He had a newfound respect for how long it had taken Riker to give in to the temptation. Lesser men wouldn't have lasted thirty seconds.

"Good lord," was all that Jean-Luc could manage.

"I'm not confident that's something I can used to," Q replied softly, wondrously.

Jean-Luc issued a sigh, dragging a hand over his mouth. "I assure you, you won't have to."

"It doesn't tempt you even a little?" Q prodded, leaning back into the rainbow of elaborately woven bed dressings, wishing himself out of his Starfleet reds and into more appropriate, comfortable attire.

Jean-Luc resolutely focused his mind, determined not to have another slip-up like that again. Using his power to intentionally bring Q's semi-conscious vessel to Yern with him seemed to have opened the floodgates, and he was already starting to forget how easy it was to invoke it.

"Not at all. I'll be glad to be rid of it, in fact."

It was hard to ignore the slight fall in Q's expression, or the dull swell of disappointment in his essence. Jean-Luc reached out to him, his hands finding the curve of Q's jaw and bringing him in for a kiss, slow and sweet, pouring every ounce of reassurance he could muster into the coaxing of his lips against Q's. Q responded to him easily, eagerly, and together they slid onto their sides, kissing, breathing each other in. Jean-Luc knew Q wouldn't mind the distraction given what they now needed to talk about, and honestly he wasn't averse to the thought, either. After all they'd been through, it felt almost cruel to shove them directly into such an unpleasant topic, but this was bigger than them. They couldn't truly be free of their misgivings until they came to an understanding, and they both knew it.

They pulled apart, but just barely. For a moment they simply lay there, holding each other, their emotions and ideas holding thousands of conversations about a thousand different things, still euphoric to be joined again. Q's fingers traced feather-light over Jean-Luc's cheek to his chin.

"So. You have no intention of becoming Q. Not now, not ever."

Jean-Luc drew in a small, tight breath. "No." A pause, and then, "I know that wasn't what you wanted to hear."

"No, it's alright. You'd make a lousy Q anyway. I bet you'd spend all eternity just zipping around  _helping_ people. How boring."

"You're probably right," Jean-Luc chuckled, gently pulling his fingers through Q's hair and across the back of his neck.

Q's eyes fell closed with a broken sigh, his brows knitting together. For a moment Jean-Luc thought perhaps his headaches were prevailing even here, but Q felt his surge of concern and shook his head as much as the cushions would allow. "No, it isn't that," Q murmured. "This is all my fault. We should have had this conversation ages ago, but I simply refused to accept the fact that you would never relinquish your mortality. I was selfish. I apologize."

Jean-Luc leaned in an inch to press a kiss to Q's forehead, his cheek and the seam of his mouth. "No. You weren't being selfish.  _I_  was." It was impossible to miss the way Q's eyes blew open. "I thought I'd gotten past this some time ago, but apparently I'm still guilty of humanizing you on occasion."

For a fleeting moment, Q looked positively at a loss for words. "Of all the things I expected to hear you say, that was not among them."

"For goodness sakes, Q, I'm not incapable of admitting when I'm wrong."

"It isn't that," Q sighed, "I'm just unaccustomed to hearing you apologize when you've done absolutely  _nothing_ wrong." Their noses brushed together. "I've put you in a cage. You said so yourself. I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"I may have… exaggerated slightly. It's been a very,  _very_ long few days."

"I don't think it's an exaggeration at all. What else would you call being shackled to immortality against your will?" Thoughts of Quinn and his plight surfaced in Q's mind, an unpleasant reminder of the price paid for imposed immortality. Though Jean-Luc had never met this rebel Q, it suddenly felt very much like he had.

"Alright, not an exaggeration. A change of opinion, then." Jean-Luc corrected gently. "Q, when I was faced with losing you, when I  _really_ had to consider the prospect, I lost myself. It seemed like nothing else in the universe mattered. I was given the choice to save you or walk away, and I didn't even hesitate. The thought of going back to my life without ever seeing you again…" He trailed off, a painful lump forming in his throat. Q watched him in mute surprise, experiencing every shred of Jean-Luc's grief through their connection. "What I mean to say is, you were right. If given the power to save you, I'll save you every time, regardless of the price. And I can't expect you - an omnipotent entity with the ability to reverse anything you consider unpleasant - to conform to my mortal standards of living just because it might be inconvenient for me."

Somewhere into the middle of Jean-Luc's last sentence Q had begun to softly shake his head in silent protest. His fingers slowly left Jean-Luc's cheek and moved to his lips, gently pressing against his mouth. "It's a fair bit more than  _inconvenient_ ," Q pointed out. "I understand now, Jean-Luc. It's taken me a while, but I understand what your mortality means to you. I understand that without it, you wouldn't be you. I can't ask you to live a life you don't want. You would be miserable."

Jean-Luc's lips pulled into a soft, sincere smile. "There are worse ways to while away eternity, I'm sure." he murmured against Q's fingers.

"Flatterer," Q grinned.

"I'm serious, Q," Jean-Luc kissed each of Q's fingertips, taking Q's hand in his and twining them together. "I've thought this through. It isn't fair of me to ask you to embrace the brevity of my existence when it means you'll be alone for so long after I'm gone." He gave Q's hand a gentle squeeze. "For so  _incredibly_ long."

Q looked as though he didn't trust himself to speak. There was a wobble in this throat and his eyes were shining and staring into Jean-Luc's as though he were trying to pull the very soul out of him. "What exactly are you proposing?" his voice came out tight and very thin, barely above a whisper.

Jean-Luc held Q's gaze, staring into these deep brown pools that used to intimidate him so long ago, used to give him the feeling that he could slip and fall straight into them if he wasn't guarding himself. "I don't want to become Q." Jean-Luc said firmly, decisively, "But when I die - and I  _will_ die - I don't care what you turn me into, or how you do it. All I ask is that you allow me to die as a human. Let me live out my life as naturally as possible, which means no interfering if harm befalls me, no pulling me back from death if something unfortunate were to happen. After that, when my time as a human is done, I entrust everything and anything that is left of me entirely to you. I don't need grand powers, thank you, just give me what I need to exist beside you, and I will do so. Happily."

Q's eyes had long gone very round and his complexion was positively ashen. His fingers curled around Jean-Luc's hand so tightly it was almost painful, and his lips parted once, twice, and then three times until he managed to produce words. "You can't really mean that." he croaked.

"I rarely say what I don't mean."

Q pulled away and slowly sat up, his eyes stuck on Picard as though he couldn't look away. He looked overwhelmed, frightened, but Jean-Luc could feel the irrepressible medley of emotions that were borne in Q's consciousness, the massive outpouring of excitement, shock, relief and trepidation. "Jean-Luc, you're asking me to… To recreate you. To give you form as an immortal being."

It was momentarily jarring to see Q reacting almost negatively to his proposal, but immediately Jean-Luc felt the disbelief pour into him, the desperate hope, and he realized that part of Q feared the carpet would be pulled out from under him. The idea of what Jean-Luc was suggesting was so far out of Q's realm of belief he needed reassurance, he needed to talk it out. Jean-Luc was willing to do anything to alleviate his worries.

He followed Q's example and sat up, resting an arm on a bent knee. "Billions of societies believe in an afterlife, I don't really see how this is any different."

"The difference is that this is  _real_ and  _tangible,_ not some delusional mortal fancy of clouds and pearly gates." Q answered firmly. "This will become your reality. You'll  _die_ , and then you'll open your eyes to become something else, something that does not have a beginning or an end."

"Yes, I know."

"You could lose your mind. You could lose your… your _self_. The very essence of what makes you  _you_ could be altered."

"Humans change constantly, Q. I'm not the same man I was ten years ago, or ten  _days_ ago, in light of recent events. I expect I'll change, of course, but I trust you to keep me balanced."

Q's mouth went very thin. His essence was rolling with incredulous exhilaration. "Not even  _I_ know what might become of you. Despite my best efforts to keep you safe and sane, I can't make any promises."

"If it means you won't be left alone, I'll risk it."

Q leaned forward, dark eyes glinting with almost desperate abandon. He was waiting for the clincher, that last proof of resolution. "And you're certain? You're  _really_ certain this is what you want? Immortal beyond death? Stuck with me for all eternity? There's no turning back, you know. Once you've changed, not even the power of Q can unmake you. I need you to be  _sure_ this is what you want."

Jean-Luc grinned and reached out, touching the pads of his fingers gently against the side of Q's face, tracing his fingers over Q's mildly trembling jaw. He recalled a time when Q threatened him with the concept of eternity in that white, empty space, while he stood in defiance with a hole in his chest. It felt like decades ago now. "I assure you, I wouldn't want it any other way." he professed softly, pairing his words with every shred of sincerity to be found within them. "This is what I want."

Q tried and failed to stifle a choked sob. Jean-Luc pulled him closer and held him tight while Q made quiet, almost confused sounds, the closest to crying Jean-Luc had ever heard from him. Even when he was human Jean-Luc never caught Q crying, but he supposed Q never had reason to, at least not when they were together. Q wormed closer and clutched Jean-Luc as if his very existence might slip away if they pulled apart.

"You'd do this? You would really do this for me?" Q murmured into Jean-Luc's shoulder, a faint tremble in his arms.

"I'm doing this for us," Jean-Luc answered softly. "My inclination to maintain my mortality has nothing to do with our relationship. The idea of spending eternity with you was never undesirable to me, Q… In fact, it was about the only compelling reason to consider it." He squeezed Q more tightly. "I want this, Q. Truly. This isn't some sort of favor, it isn't out of pity."

Another strange, tight sob jerked Q's shoulders, and then he stilled, both his consciousness and his body relaxing into Jean-Luc's embrace. Jean-Luc kissed the top of his head. They lay like that for some time, the minutes flying away like petals on the wind, just basking in the safety and joy of their closeness. Jean-Luc's eyelids were heavy. Being reunited with Q and being allowed to tell him everything that had transpired in the Continuum left him feeling contented and more exhausted than he'd ever felt in his life - any of them - and as he lay with Q in his arms nestled in the thick layers of pristine silks and cushions, he finally felt like he could drop off. Q's voice bloomed in the sleepiest corner of his consciousness.

( _Darling, when was the last time you slept?_ )

Jean-Luc honestly didn't know. Time hadn't felt particularly linear for a very long time, and it was difficult to pinpoint the last time Picard had done  _anything_.

 _Long enough that I'm barely able to keep my eyes open despite the fact that I would rather be using this bed for more than napping_.

( _Then let go. It isn't suppertime yet and sleep is for the body, not the mind_.)

A warm, tingling wave of exhaustion washed over him and suddenly everything felt very far away. He was no stranger to the sensation of being expelled from his body, not after a year spent with an incorporeal boyfriend, but this time something was different. It was involuntary, like a muscle spasm, as though his body had simply kicked him out for taking up too much room. The rest was the same, the tightness in his navel, the warm tingling that spread through every limb of his body, and as he felt something lift out of his physical body - the part of himself he couldn't put a name to - he found it felt strangely natural to exist like this, a conscious presence without a solid form, or perhaps he'd been sharing Q's mind for so long that the concept had become familiar.

Jean-Luc felt part of himself shut off. He could tell he was still tethered to his physical body but his body was suddenly useless to him, limited, resting, while the piece of him that made him Jean-Luc Picard shot up and out of the palace, into the stratosphere, and then in an instant he was soaring far past its moons.

He stopped only when he felt a gentle tug in his center, a wordless reminder not to stray too far. It was  _so easy_  to stray too far, to see how far you could travel before you touched another galaxy, another quadrant, another  _universe_ when you weren't bound by physical laws. Jean-Luc reeled in his thoughtless curiosity and let his good sense prevail, feeling mildly embarrassed for almost zipping off like he did. He could feel Q join him, floating alongside whatever shapeless form Jean-Luc had unconsciously conjured up.

( _Are you still quite certain you want to give this up so soon?_ ) Q's voice was everywhere, gently spreading through Jean-Luc's essence like warm silk threads, reaching every part of him. It was difficult to identify exactly how Jean-Luc was experiencing simple sensations like sight and sound; he had no eyes to see with nor ears to hear with, but somehow he could hear and see everything around him with perfect clarity, able to focus on anything and everything no matter how near or far it was. It should have been overwhelming, he thought, but it was so simple to control these abilities it was barely worth fretting over.

In the past, whenever Q pulled him out of his body to exist somewhere else as some _thing_  else, he was always granted a human body to navigate his new environment. He'd never existed like this, like a Q, and for a moment he was frightened by how long it had taken him to realize that perhaps he shouldn't be enjoying it quite as much as he was.

 _Very certain_. Jean-Luc answered soundly, turning his never-ending gaze toward the crimson-purple orb once called Yern. His awareness was immeasurable. Even from this distance, there was no detail on the planet's surface that escaped his notice. Every trench, irradiated river, mountain and sand storm could be seen without fault, as though he were looking at high-resolution images of the planet's surface taken by a state-of-the-art probe.  _I'm in no hurry to experience the universe without limits, no matter how… tempting it might feel just now_. A pause, and then:  _Are you doing this, or am I?_

( _This is all you, darling. These budding powers of yours don't exactly have an 'off' switch, so until they're gone, you'll be popping out like this every time you fall asleep_. _The unfortunate result of Q-like powers existing inside a physical body_.) The form Q chose was a mirror to Jean-Luc's own, a shapeless, gaseous anomaly flickering with an array of soft colors and crackling with occasional branches of discharge. A shifting flap of Q's form reached out, treading gently against the edge of Jean-Luc's mass. ( _How does it feel?_ )

Jean-Luc shifted his awareness beyond the planet, far beyond it, his sight flying through a cluster of asteroids, a massive solar storm and countless other hazards and anomalies until he reached the edge of the system. He tried to focus, bringing his awareness back to his current place in the galaxy.

 _Different_. he answered. He experimented with movement but found it almost impossible to deliberately move any part of himself. His motor skills were limited by his human perception and his own cognitive familiarity with physical limbs, muscles, blood and bone.  _It will take some getting used to_.

( _You won't be lacking for time_.) Q pointed out gently. His form began playfully merging with Jean-Luc's, a strange but enjoyable sensation, like slipping a hand into warm water.

 _No, I certainly won't. And I'll trust you to help me with the various ins-and-outs of incorporeal existence_.

Q's form trembled with vague unease. ( _I could always create a physical form for you, until you get used to it_.)

 _That would defeat the purpose, I'd think. But I'll keep that in mind_. Through great determination, Jean-Luc managed to move just slightly, part of him swaying against Q more snugly. A crackle of electricity fizzled between them.  _We don't need to concern ourselves with all that just yet. For the time being, I'm content to enjoy things moment to moment._

( _Moment to moment. Such a human concept_.)

 _I'm glad I can somehow maintain my humanity while existing as a mass of hydrogen and helium_.

( _Hydrogen and helium? How presumptuous of you, assuming you're made of anything more than pure thought-matter. You're a long way off from creating stable elements, Johnny_.)

 _Of course, silly me_.

For a long while, the two of them just watched the universe. Existing like this, it was so easy to understand why time meant so little to the Q. It was impossible to log the passage of time, and even if he wanted to, there was no need. They had time enough for everything, anything, and Jean-Luc wondered how long he could simply float here, spreading his awareness to every nook and cranny of the universe until he grew bored of simply observing. It was an exhilarating thought.

Q nudged into him, combining their forms, layering their thoughts in an entirely new and welcome way. It felt different than their usual merging, different from the warm pool of consciousness that held their combined thoughts. They were always two entities no matter how tightly their thoughts adhered to one another, but without any physicality they could easily become just one, neither Jean-Luc nor Q, simply both. It wasn't disagreeable. It felt more like a natural progression of their association, the next step in their intimacy. It only lasted for a moment before Q fazed through him, breaking that brief but special unification.

When Q finally breached the silence of their joined thoughts, his words were sudden and determined and wholly unexpected: ( _Let's get married_.)

Some corner of Jean-Luc's awareness took note of a small lump of space debris hitting Yern's atmosphere, lighting up like a firecracker before bursting into an array of pitiful sparks that burned up and vanished. He wasn't sure where to look or what to think. Experiencing surprise without any sense of physicality was also something he was going to have to get used to someday. Someday, not today.

A tight tunnel formed around Jean-Luc's vision and he could feel his form being pulled down the tunnel, changing, becoming something he was infinitely more familiar with. He dropped back into his body with enough force to knock the air from his lungs.

Morning light streamed in through the windows above the bed, coloring the extravagant blankets in gentle golden hues. Had the night already passed? It felt as though it had only been a few minutes since he'd fallen asleep. Jean-Luc sat up, looking around, finding Q laying on his side beside him, staring down at him with a playful quirk of his lips.

"Married." Jean-Luc repeated it softly, carefully, but most importantly in his own voice, albeit gravelly from sleep. "You want to marry me. In  _this_ reality."

Warmth flooded into him, sincere and insistent. Q's essence thrummed with contentedness and his eyes burned with conviction. ( _In every reality, if I can manage it_.) he answered. "You proposed the first time, after all. I figured I should even the playing field."

It shouldn't have shocked him the way it did. Q had been his husband longer than not, and even now Jean-Luc's consciousness sang  _you're already my husband, you silly thing_  as a reflex. But he knew the importance of that proposal, he understood the implications of an immortal, omnipotent and incorporeal being suggesting something so intrinsically and frivolously  _human_. Both of them knew that a simple bonding ceremony was beneath the Q, it was meaningless, it couldn't possibly serve to deepen their already fathomless connection, so there was only one reason Q could be suggesting it now.

"Are you sure you aren't trying to even  _another_ playing field?" Jean-Luc asked, no accusation to be found, reaching for one of Q's hands and pulling it into his own.

"Several. But yes, you've figured me out. If you can willingly concede to a continued existence of immortality alongside me, I can most certainly accept the mortal bonds of matrimony. Marriage might not make a lick of difference in the Continuum, but on your world it means a great deal."

Jean-Luc breathed evenly through his nose, rubbed his eyes, and then squeezed Q's hand tightly. "I want to make sure it means something to  _you_ ," he said, pulling him close. "I would love to marry you, Q. As far as I'm concerned, you're  _still_ my husband. I just want to make sure you're comfortable with this."

"Oh, I'm more than comfortable." Q replied soundly. "Prior to our lives in La Barre, I thought there was nothing our relationship could have been lacking. I still believe that, but I also know that I  _miss_ it. Being allowed to call myself your husband was the only thing that gave me any joy in that otherwise miserable mortal existence I imposed upon myself."

Jean-Luc's mouth pulled into a warm, slightly pensive smile. "A human Starfleet Captain marrying a Q of the Continuum. Surely this is one for the record books."

"If there isn't an entire curriculum at Starfleet Academy dedicated to the historical and cultural significance of our union in the years to come, I'll be severely disappointed." Q said seriously.

"I'll be sure to mention it the next time I visit," Jean-Luc chuckled, wrapping his arms around Q's neck to drag him in for a kiss.

The last time they'd been intimate, they were mortal men living very ordinary lives in La Barre. Jean-Luc had nearly forgotten what it was like to touch Q's skin and feel the raw thrum of unfathomable power barely contained beneath his deceptively human shell, he missed the thrill and unashamed pride of coaxing heated moans from an interdimensional God who had never known sexual pleasure before him. Nothing compared to dragging his tongue over Q's nipples and being able to sense exactly how good it feels or experience just how eagerly Q's body responded to his touches and caresses through Q's own desire.

Taking the time to shuck off each other's clothes was another habit from La Barre, though neither of them could deny the appeal in such a test of patience when patience was the last thing on either of their minds. Jean-Luc's mouth was everywhere, on Q's chest, his stomach, the base of his cock, and Q's hands were grabbing at him, begging, fingertips pressing against his hot skin in a silent plea for more, more of this or that or  _everything_ , and Jean-Luc was happy to oblige.

Q's patience only extended so far. Before long he was flipping Jean-Luc onto his back and straddling his hips, chest puffing, skin beautifully flushed, hands splayed over Jean-Luc's stomach as he lowered himself onto Jean-Luc's engorged cock and sank himself to the root. The sensation was electric, it was overwhelming. Q's molten insides hugged his cock without remorse, so deeply buried that Jean-Luc was certain Q would need help getting up when they were through. Q's lips were glossy with saliva, his hands slightly shaking as he began to grind his hips downward, pulling himself up halfway and plunging himself back down again, his eyes screwing shut in a pleasured grimace. Jean-Luc held Q's hips hard enough to bruise, snapping his hips up to meet Q's, his climax building quickly in his loins. The sloped ceiling of the bedroom created an echo chamber of lustful moans and grunts as they pushed each other eagerly toward their impending release.

An array of comforting sensations bloomed within the shared space of their minds. It was though something had been given back to them, something they hadn't fully realized had been taken in the first place. They were  _whole_. Every moment they'd shared from Farpoint until now, every biting word, every tepid gesture of amity, every passionate realization came together like the pieces to a puzzle that was bigger than both of them. Neither of them knew what the future would bring, but they now knew they would face it together. That was all that mattered. It was all either of them needed.

Q came with a wail, Jean-Luc's cock buried deep in his sex, spending himself all over Jean-Luc's stomach and chest. Jean-Luc sat up and hugged Q to his chest, emptying himself into Q's convulsing insides, breathing in all of Q's soft whines and groans as he was filled. They clung to each other, equal parts breathless and boneless, Jean-Luc laying mildly shaky kisses to Q's shoulder and collarbone as they came back down.

( _So that's a yes?_ )

Jean-Luc chuckled weakly.  _I may have to give it more thought. I'm already married, you see._

( _Is that right! What's he like?_ )

They came together for another kiss, slow and tender.  _He's a lot like you._

( _He sounds dreamy_.)

 _Quite_. Jean-Luc pulled away, breathing gently over Q's lips. "I think it's time I said farewell to these powers of mine. It's long past suppertime."

Q's smile crept slowly along the curve of his mouth, playfully devious. "Except it isn't, darling. You are still very much asleep. This is something like a dream, albeit a  _very_ nice one. Haven't we already established that reality is a funny thing?"

Jean-Luc might have been horrified if this sort of thing wasn't becoming so alarmingly commonplace in his life. "And it's getting funnier all the time," Jean-Luc answered softly, tracing his fingers along Q's jaw. "Did I…? Or was it you?"

"All you, once again. You desired a physical body to speak with me in a way that was familiar and comfortable, but your real body is still sleeping. So you created this place for us to talk." Q tittered fondly. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"And how, may I ask, am I to know you're the real Q, and not simply a shadow of him manufactured by my own mind, my own powers?" Jean-Luc teased.

Q's smile grew, but his eyes were heartrendingly sincere. "Do you honestly think I would let even a  _dream-version_  of myself have you? No, sir."

"Good answer." Jean-Luc mused.

"Are you ready to say goodnight,  _mon capitaine_?" Q asked him, leaning in close.

Jean-Luc pulled him closer, pecking his lips. "I'll see you in the morning."

Q kissed Picard between his brows, and he dissolved. All that remained of him was the very mortal, very human Starfleet Captain sleeping soundly in a shining desert palace, still dreaming a pleasant dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the delay!! ˓˓(ᑊᘩᑊ⁎) This has been a heck of a stressful month and I’m just now getting back to writing. I had to give myself some time to focus on my mental health, and it’s incredibly hard for me to write when I’m overly stressed because of how fixated I get. Now that I’m feeling a bit better, I’m hoping to get the last two chapters out before the end of the year!
> 
> Next chapter, wedding shenanigans ensue, as well as some other odds and ends that may or may not need addressing :3


	17. Chapter 17

Jean-Luc never realized how sharply sterile a starship smelled, the slightly chemical tinge that spread from the environmental controls to the rest of the ship, the recycled air carrying a vague medicinal musk. It wasn't offensive, barely noticeable, but the smell of the  _Enterprise_ had recently become starkly identifiable. His time with Q in La Barre may not have been real, but nevertheless he'd spent another lifetime never breathing this recycled air, never concerning himself with the exact temperature and humidity of the room he was in.

The Captain's ready room had only one other occupant when Q and Jean-Luc appeared: Admiral Phillip Danvers, sitting importantly on the other side of Picard's desk, his lips pursed in the beginnings of a sentence that Jean-Luc had likely heard more than once by now.

"He's a bit fat, isn't he?" Q remarked snidely, staring down at the frozen Admiral with a raised brow and judgmental scowl. Jean-Luc snorted and carefully sat down in his chair, smoothing out his uniform in preparation for time to resume.

"Now Q."

"I'm only saying!" Q strolled around Danvers' chair, glancing at Jean-Luc in innocuous surprise. "It's just odd, is all. Your little Federation has had nutrition and health all figured out for centuries, so how does our dear Admiral manage to keep his figure so impressively stout?"

"For the sake of decency, I hope you're getting all of this out of your system  _before_ you unfreeze him." Jean-Luc said reproachfully.

Q sauntered to the edge of Jean-Luc's desk to lean against it. "Don't worry. I'll be perfectly pleasant. I have quite a lot to make up for, after all."

"Oh?"

A vaguely sad smile pulled at Q's lips. "If I had just done this from the  _beginning_."

"If I recall, you had a rather upsetting meeting with the Continuum to concern yourself with," Jean-Luc pointed out, reaching out for Q's hand. "But that's in the past now, isn't it? We've talked it to death, we agreed we would be looking forward from now on."

"Oh I  _know_ ," Q groaned, but there was affection there, "get off my case, Picard. I'm allowed a moment here or there of self-condemnation. I've earned it."

"I suppose you have."

Their hands twined for a beat longer before they released each other. Jean-Luc situated himself, leaning back in his chair, glancing at Q questioningly. "Are you going to sit just there?" he asked.

"Why not?" Q shrugged his shoulders. "The man wanted to speak with me, Jean-Luc, he didn't specify when or where or how." He knocked his knuckles sharply against the table. "I get the feeling Phillip could use a little more surprise in his life."

Jean-Luc chuckled. "Whatever you say."

"Shall I wake him up now?"

"Please. I'm very eager to get this over with."

The timeline resumed. The atmosphere in the room shifted, all the ambient noise returning like a thick wall of pressure against Jean-Luc's ears. Danvers' voice resumed its recurring rant, momentarily unaware of the sudden change in the room, the extra presence now taking up space at the edge of Jean-Luc's desk.

"I should tell you, Jean-Luc, that I've filed a query regarding this… situation. I don't believe-"

Several things happened all at once. Danvers' words died on his lips, turning to a puff of air that filled up his cheeks until he found the good sense to swallow. His face turned an even darker shade of pink and his eyes blew open, followed by a surprised stutter as he clambered out of his chair, putting a sizable chunk of space between himself and Q, looking between the two of them as if trying to discern what had changed and when. His lips looked too tight to produce an exclamation of alarm.

Q's smile was deceptively friendly. "There is no room on a Federation starship for a creature like Q, yes yes  _yes_. Your concern is noted. Wrong, but noted."

Danvers looked just about ready to explode. Less from anger, more from humiliation. He drew himself up, visibly trying to reign in some composure. "I should have realized you might have been skulking around," he said with thinly veiled accusation. "I hope you can see that my reluctance in trusting your presence on a Starfleet ship is somewhat warranted. Listening in on a private conversation between an Admiral and a Captain is suspicious at best."

Q waved dismissively in the Admiral's direction. "Oh I didn't come here for your  _approval_ , Phillip. I'm here to put a stop to your ridiculous query." With a hiss, Q dragged a breath of air through his teeth, as though the next word were causing him pain as it emerged. " _Diplomatically_."

It seemed that Q's use of such a classically Starfleet word brought the Admiral's outward unprofessionalism to a low simmer. Danvers' chest swelled with a stabilizing sigh.

"I see." Phillip calmly took his seat, lacing his fingers over his stomach. He regarded Q critically, then regarded Jean-Luc with similar scrutiny. "Were you planning this ambush, Jean-Luc?"

"I wouldn't say planned," Jean-Luc answered him, trying very hard not to grin like an idiot. "It's… complicated. But you  _did_ say you wanted to speak with him."

Danvers sighed heavily. "I suppose I did. No more wasting time, then. Let's get into it, shall we?" He glanced back to Q, who had seemingly decided his perch on the edge of Jean-Luc's desk was a suitable position for such a critical discussion. "From my point of view, you're dangerous, Q. There's no denying that. You have made questionable decisions that have led this ship and its crew into unnecessary peril on more than one occasion, and despite the more recent testimonials of certain crew members on your behalf, I can't ignore the possibility that it could happen again. I have a hard time believing an entity such as yourself - a being capable of any feat, no matter how impossible - can be trusted to follow our comparatively mundane directives."

Q watched him, arms loosely crossed, nodding occasionally, the outward picture of understanding and professionalism although his mind was struggling to withhold a plethora of clever stinging remarks and an outpouring of mocking laughter.

( _Listen to him go on and on! I don't think I've ever met a human so content with the sound of their own voice_.)

_You're not really one to be criticizing someone for loving the sound of their own voice, Q._

( _My least favorite jabs of yours are the accurate ones_.)

"Then of course, there is the incident that occurred on Starbase 74." Danvers continued. "Is it safe to assume you were responsible for stopping the attack?"

Q hiked a leg up and casually caged his fingers around his knee. "I did what any good civilian would do," he replied offhandedly.

Danvers leaned forward in his chair. "So you admit it?"

"Of course I admit it! And what, pray tell, does this particular confession imply?" Q challenged softly, a touch of menace sneaking into his features. "Of all the offenses I expected a Starfleet Admiral to accuse me of, heroically saving countless Federation lives from a terrorist attack seems an odd choice."

"I'm not condemning you for saving lives, I'm questioning your motive for doing so." Danvers continued, his inflection gaining confidence the longer he was allowed to prattle on. "Your actions in the past have always seemed random and destructive from a third party perspective, but you always seem to have an ulterior motive, and those motives always seem to gravitate to Captain Picard in some way or other. I can't help but wonder how your continued association with Picard or his crew could possibly benefit you in any clear-"

"We're engaged to be married." Q cut in, his lips pulled gently into a smile, his essence practically glowing with unbridled pride. "Jean-Luc and I, that is, just in case there was any confusion."

Jean-Luc didn't often experience that certain thrum of victorious satisfaction when someone he disliked was struck dumb and mute, but he felt it now, and even if he hadn't, Q was feeling enough for the both of them. Danvers' eyes were round and his face was ashen, his mouth opening and closing, the tip of his tongue emerging once or twice to nervously swipe at his upper lip. He turned his horrified gaze to Jean-Luc, perhaps in hopes that Picard would scoff and assure him that it was only one of Q's pranks, a silly joke.

"We haven't told anyone else yet," Jean-Luc said, watching the color continue to drain from Phillip's face, "so if you could keep our engagement a secret for the moment, we would be very appreciative."

For a moment it truly seemed like Danvers had lost the ability to speak, but finally he appeared to come back to the world of the living and drew himself up, shoulders stiff, mouth forming a thin, disapproving line.

"Well, that's… something." he half-murmured. "I had no idea that you…"

"Were intimate? Lovey-dovey? Romantically involved?" Q chirped pleasantly. "Why should you have? Jean-Luc's personal life is none of your concern, nor anyone else's."

"This is…. It's just-" Danvers rubbed his brow irritably. "This is so unlike you, Jean-Luc. How could you…? After all he's done?"

Jean-Luc clearly remembered a time not too long ago - or perhaps it was a lifetime ago, it was still hard to tell - when he would have taken offense to such talk. As a matter of fact, it was this very same conversation in this very same room that had him passionately defending his association with Q. Now, it seemed like such a pointless thing to argue. He had nothing to prove, neither of them did, and it no longer mattered how many people were against them because it changed precisely nothing.

"My relationship with Q has nothing to do with events that have already transpired." Jean-Luc answered firmly. "Nor am I hoping for your blessing. You should simply know that your complaints about Q's presence on my ship - his presence in my  _life_ \- are baseless and frankly none of your business, nor anyone else's at Starfleet."

Danvers squared his jaw and turned accusingly to Q, his eyes alight with vexation. "And how am I to possibly know that you haven't coerced Picard into some twisted union against his will?" he demanded. "This is exactly what I mean. You have the power to change a human's thoughts, don't you? How can I be certain that Picard's Captaincy hasn't been compromised, that he's acting of his own free will?"

Q's lips curled into an amused grin and his eyes twinkled with delight. "Let me answer your question with a question, dear Admiral. Why would I go to the trouble of brainwashing the Captain of your beloved flagship yet somehow fail to do the same to you?" he asked airily. "I could have you standing on your head reciting the entirety of the  _Mahabharata_ smack-dab in the middle of Starfleet HQ with only a thought, if I desired it. I am capable of anything you can imagine. Why would I allow you to waste my immeasurably precious time like this if I could simply tap into your tiny, underdeveloped mind, gain your unwavering trust, and then just send you on your way?"

The silence that rang after Q's words was even more satisfying than the previous one. Danvers stared at Q with tight lips, clearly searching for a counter argument that simply didn't exist. Q moved in to fill the silence, as he often did, his eyes rolling up to regard the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Jean-Luc, does Starfleet typically discourage their Captains from marrying aliens?"

Picard frowned as though he were seriously considering Q's inquiry, brushing a knuckle against his chin in thought. "No, I don't believe they do," he answered as Danvers watched on, silently seething, "Starfleet is quite accommodating to the spouses of their Captains, no matter their species."

"How progressive!" Q exclaimed, a hand to his heart.

"Fine.  _Fine_." Danvers cut in stiffly. He cleared his throat and stood from his chair, smoothing out his uniform. "You win. But I'm warning you now, I won't be the only one at Starfleet Command with concerns about this… union. There will be questions, there might even be meetings. They won't make it easy for you, Picard."

Jean-Luc offered the Admiral a cordial smile, knitting his hands together in front of him. "I don't expect them to. But that's for Q and I to face together, and we intend to do just that."

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Danvers' jaw tensed and he broke their eye contact. "Perhaps a query would be... inappropriate, considering the situation," he murmured, practically through gritted teeth.

"I'm glad we're understanding each other," Q chirped cheerfully.

"I suppose I should congratulate you two on your engagement." he added reluctantly. "Forgive me if I said anything offensive."

Jean-Luc stood and maneuvered around his desk to see Danvers to the door. "Thank you, but I'd rather we simply put it behind us." The Admiral followed his lead without fuss, just as eager to be gone as his companions were to be rid of him. "Now that we've got it all sorted, we can completely focus on our mission to Beta Zynaath."

The door of his ready room slid open and Danvers turned to face him, shooting a sidelong glance at Q. "Of course. Speaking of which, Starfleet wanted an update on our position."

"I'll see to it."

"No, it's alright," Danvers answered, stepping through the doorway. "I'll take care of it." It was clear he needed any and every excuse to busy himself, and Jean-Luc was more than happy to oblige him.

"I appreciate it."

Danvers nodded to the two of them, still slightly pale, and left. The doors slid closed, shutting out the ambient noise of the bridge, and Jean-Luc let out a barely audible breath of relief. He turned to view Q still perched on his desk, just in time to see Q's face light up like a Christmas tree.

"I'm  _back_!" Q crowed triumphantly, tipping backwards to lie on Jean-Luc's desk. "That felt incredible. How could that round oaf ever have intimidated me? How could his idiotic words ever have subdued me the way they did?" He preemptively raised an arm to lazily swat at the air in Jean-Luc's general direction in anticipation of the inevitable rebuttal. "It was  _rhetorical_ , Picard."

Jean-Luc grinned, moving to join Q at his desk. He sat just next to him, clasping his hands in his lap. "I suppose now that that's over, we can think about planning our wedding." he said thoughtfully. "Danvers is no doubt telling Starfleet Command about this as we speak."

"Does that worry you?" Q asked, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Not at all," Picard answered. "I just thought we should be prompt, so that by the time the higher-ups get their complaints and queries in order, they'll have to legally address you as 'Mr. Picard'."

Q barked a laugh, his eyes sparkling. "Now  _that_ is certainly going to be a first in the Continuum. A Q with a surname!"

"Your case is very much the opposite of Amanda," Jean-Luc mused.

"That's very true. And maybe now, what with the incoming changes to the Continuum, these things might just start becoming more commonplace." Q pushed himself up, scooting closer to Jean-Luc to rest his chin on Jean-Luc's shoulder. "When can we tell everyone?" he asked softly, his lips close to the Captain's ear. "If announcing our engagement to someone I despise felt that incredible, I can only imagine how it might feel telling people I… well,  _don't_ despise."

Jean-Luc slipped his hand over Q's knee. "If you're that eager, I certainly won't stop you. If we could contain the announcement to just the senior staff, however, that would be-"

"Oh I  _know_ ," Q assured, sneaking a kiss to the seam of Jean-Luc's mouth, "As much as I want to broadcast our engagement to the entire quadrant, no one knows you better than I. I intend to be as Starfleet about the whole thing as I can manage, I promise."

"You're too good to me," Jean-Luc said fondly.

Suddenly, Q sat bolt-upright, his eyes round and vaguely horrified. "Who's going to tell Guinan?" he asked hoarsely. Jean-Luc traded an equally concerned look with his interdimensional fiance.

" _Not it_ ," both of them blurted in unison.

.

.

.

For Jean-Luc's sake, the wedding ceremony was modest and befitting a Starfleet Captain, though Q could have certainly gone for the full over-the-top, party-of-the-century shindig if he thought for a moment Jean-Luc would like something like that - which of course he wouldn't - so Q was equally content with a peaceful, somewhat professional gathering in Ten Forward. It helped that he'd gotten permission to oversee the honeymoon. He had no shortage of extravagant ideas, and he intended to drag it out for as long as Jean-Luc would allow.

The decoration and atmosphere of Ten Forward had been handled by Data almost exclusively. He took the task very seriously. Picard trusted him to keep the decor modest but appropriate, and on that end Data certainly delivered. Pale cream ribbons hung delicately from the ceiling and framed the simple but beautiful floral centerpieces on each table. Gently flickering tea lights sparsely littered the tables and the bar, where food and champagne would be served after the ceremony. It was effective and  _nearly_ perfect - as expected of Q's best man - but Q added a touch of his own: warm, softly glowing orbs that floated peaceably over the heads of the guests, dancing near the transparent ribbons. It looked a little more magical and it felt a great deal more nostalgic.

The guest list was comfortably short. Q's suggestion to invite Vash to their wedding was initially met with discontent and perhaps a little bit of panic, but Q quickly quelled those lingering concerns by divulging that Vash had not only been aware of Q's feelings for Picard when they'd been gallivanting the universe together, but she'd bet him the royal jewels of Iatis IV that he'd never work up the nerve to tell Jean-Luc how he felt.

"So you're expecting her to… just  _bring_ you the royal jewels of Iatis IV? As some sort of wedding gift, perhaps?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Is that so unreasonable?" Q demanded with a pout.

"Didn't you mention that Iatis IV was in the Gamma quadrant?"

Q huffed. "She should have thought of that before making the bet!"

The question of who would preside over the ceremony wasn't even up for debate. Q could count the friends he had outside the  _Enterprise_ on one Caldonian hand - purely because Caldonians have only three fingers - but one of those friends just so happened to have the authority to marry a Starfleet Captain, and as an added bonus she didn't find Q entirely contemptible. In hindsight, Q thought perhaps inviting someone of Kathryn Janeway's current widespread popularity to his wedding might have been a poor idea, but Janeway somehow managed to  _not_ act exactly like a triumphant hero who had just returned to Federation space after being hopelessly lost in the Delta quadrant for seven years. She  _was_ a hero, of course, no one was debating that, Q just didn't want people going on about it at  _his_ wedding.

Fortunately, keeping all eyes on the happy couple didn't seem to be a problem. Every person present knew the importance of what was happening and what it truly meant to their Captain and friend. Picard was beloved, and his happiness was shared by everyone he knew. Although Q was still finding it difficult to fathom, a few of them cared about his happiness, too.

The guests and officers were seated at the tastefully decorated tables as the ceremony began. Jean-Luc entered first, a purple flower pinned to the breast pocket of his dress uniform and Guinan alongside him, her arm twined with his. Soft music floated from the comm system - Pachelbel Canon in D, a classic wedding instrumental from Earth - as Jean-Luc was led to Captain Janeway, who was standing alone under a dainty, pearl-white arch. Guinan released Jean-Luc and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.

"Last chance, Picard," she whispered to him with a quirk of her dark lips, "blink twice if you want out."

Jean-Luc grinned, placing his hand over Guinan's to give her a fond squeeze in return. "Thank you for doing this," he whispered back.

With a gracious nod, Guinan took her place behind Jean-Luc and slightly to the left, making room for Riker who stepped up just next to her.

Jean-Luc's eyes swept to the door, watching with anticipation and a swelling of almost giddy excitement as Q entered, Data beside him. Their eyes met; Q's mind exploded with color and praise, his own form of anticipation, nearly forcing Jean-Luc to turn his head to hide his smile.

_Goodness, Q._

( _I can't help it!_ ) Q exclaimed as he and Data walked the identical path to the arch. ( _You look incredible! Just be grateful I'm not redirecting all this euphoria to some far away, unsuspecting solar system._ )

_Yes, that might ruin the ceremony, I'd think._

( _Oh, it's not like I'd_ tell  _anyone._ )

 _That almost makes it worse_.

Q joined Jean-Luc by the arch, and Data mirrored Guinan behind him, holding his hands respectfully behind his back. A diamond of light suddenly filled up the empty space beside Data and Quenton appeared in its place - in formal wear, no less. Janeway's mouth quirked in a smile at the young Q's appearance. She turned to regard both the guests and the men waiting to be joined in mortal matrimony.

"Well," Janeway began, clasping her hands in front of her, "As tempting as it is to delve into the typical wedding spiel we Captains memorize for a typical Starfleet wedding, I'm afraid 'the usual' just won't cut it here. This union is as auspicious as it is remarkably unique, and strangely enough, it also manages to capture the spirit of Starfleet's primary goal, the desire to seek out and connect with new life. Every guest taking part in this ceremony is witness to something that has never been seen before, and might never be seen again." She moved her gaze to the Captain and the entity standing before her, offering them a warm smile. "And I, for one, am honored to be a part of it."

"Oh Kathy, you're too kind," Q purred. "That ticker tape parade is still on the table, you know."

"Not the best memory to revisit on your wedding day, perhaps," Janeway discreetly countered. She cleared her throat. "If there's anything either of you would like to say to one another, now would be the time, gentlemen."

Their eyes met, and Jean-Luc held his hand out for Q to take. Jean-Luc grasped Q's hand tightly and with purpose. A small thrill shot through the both of them when their hands connected in front of all of the onlooking guests. Their relationship had only ever been so public once before in that false world made for just the two of them, and even then it didn't carry the same weight as it did here.

"When we first met nearly 15 years ago, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that we would be here today, pledging ourselves to one another. Now that we're here, however, I know that we were always meant to be here."

Jean-Luc looked amazing in white. Q always knew that, of course, but he looked especially magnificent clad in white and gold reciting wedding vows. Q knew that, too, since he'd had the good fortune to have witnessed it more than once.

"You are my heart, and you share my soul. Forevermore." Jean-Luc said firmly, unfalteringly, like a fact that could not be argued.

Q's lips slowly pulled into a grin. Picard was still Picard, despite how he'd changed and grown in his own ways. Being overly sentimental in public was still something he wasn't too keen on, so Q knew how hard it must have been to recite such flowery prose in front of his colleagues. He could have just as easily said nothing, Q wouldn't have minded. The ceremony itself was simply a beautiful inevitability, something that needed to happen because it had already happened, was  _meant_ to happen, so Q couldn't be bothered about the specifics. It was enough that Jean-Luc was holding his hand and staring into his eyes with an expression that could only be described as adoring. Whatever promises they made here today were only a small part of the larger picture. They were connected in ways no mortal ceremony could possibly convey, and they both knew it.

"'My existence begins and ends with you'," Q offered in reply, squeezing Jean-Luc's hand. "I told you, didn't I?"

"You did," Jean-Luc smiled, nodding. "I understand what you meant now."

"Truthfully, I didn't fully understand it myself." Q admitted. "Paradoxes are disagreeable at best, even to the Q, but it's glaringly obvious to me now. You share me, every part of me. We are not meant to end. We are only meant to find our beginning."

The colors between them were bright and dancing gently through the shared sea of their thoughts. For a moment, it was as though the rest of the room had melted away to leave only the two of them. Q glanced at Janeway who was standing stoically to the side with her hands folded behind her back, listening to their proclamations with rapt attention. "Well don't just stand there, Kathy, do this marrying thing! What are we even paying you for?"

Kathryn leveled Q a subtle but effective glare, though it didn't last for long. She joined her hands at her waist, regarding the men with a warm, genuine smile. "Captain Jean-Luc Picard, do you take this…" Janeway paused, appearing to internally struggle for what descriptive word to use, "... _life form_  to be your husband?"

"I do," Jean-Luc answered unwaveringly.

Q suddenly realized he'd never been more happy or filled with pride in his lengthy life. Well, perhaps once, in that vineyard strung with delicate tea lights, but that was another life and it meant so much more now.

"And Q, do you take-"

"I do,  _obviously_ I do!" Q cut in impatiently.

It looked like it was taking everything Janeway had not to simply throw her arms in the air. "Then kiss him already!" she said with a laugh.

And Q did.

.

"They're talking about making me an Admiral."

Jean-Luc lowered his champagne glass, eyeing Katheryn with raised brows although he couldn't possibly have been less surprised. Ever since hearing of Voyager's return several months ago, it seemed only natural that her Captain would be offered a high-ranking position. Before he could congratulate her, Janeway squeezed her eyes to suspicious slits, staring into her champagne as though it had wronged her. "I don't know if I like it."

"The champagne, or the promotion?" Jean-Luc inquired humorously.

"Oh the champagne is lovely, I'm talking about the promotion," she answered with a laugh.

"After seven years in the Delta quadrant, I'd think you'd welcome the chance to rest your boots, or so the saying goes."

Janeway's thin lips quirked in a smile. "Oh, no," she started, wagging her finger at him admonishingly, "I've seen your service record, Picard. You're just as repelled by a desk job as I am, so don't give me any of that tired 'time to hang up your hat' nonsense."

The tall, brown-skinned Vulcan standing rigidly at Janeway's side cleared his throat softly but pointedly, raising a sculpted brow. "It is fortunate that more Captains in Starfleet do not feel as you do, or I doubt there would be any Admirals in Starfleet whatsoever."

Janeway laughed through her nose. "There are plenty of Starfleet officers suited for the position of Admiral, Tuvok. For some, I expect that sort of cushy position is exactly why they signed up in the first place."

"Be that as it may, it is my opinion that you are well-suited for the position, and I believe it would be prudent to consider the prospect further."

" _Wedding_ , Tuvok," Janeway asserted exasperatedly, but with unmistakable fondness, "this is a wedding, not a staff meeting. You can continue insisting how wrong you think I am when we get back to Deep Space 5."

Tuvok's brow pinched only slightly, his gaze sliding to Picard to offer him a polite nod. "I have not yet offered my well wishes to you, Captain Picard, I apologize."

Jean-Luc shook his head dismissively. "It's quite alright. I'm simply glad you could accompany Captain Janeway for the ceremony."

"An officiant doesn't typically  _need_ a date to the wedding they're officiating," Janeway started, "but this was the first time in all the years I've known him that Tuvok showed an actual interest in going to a social event." She shook her head as though she still couldn't believe it. "How could I refuse?"

"Is that so," Jean-Luc asked Tuvok in honest surprise. "May I ask what sparked your interest?" He glanced at Q across the room to catch him talking animatedly to Vash, Guinan and Beverly. "Aside from the obvious?"

Tuvok stood a little straighter, though in true Vulcan fashion his expression was impossible to read. "I'm afraid it is the 'obvious' that drew me. I hope that does not offend you." The next words were heard internally, in the outermost layer of Jean-Luc's mind.  _And I admit, I was curious. Ever since my first interaction with a member of the Q Continuum, I never entertained the idea of a Q bonding with a human in this way_.

Jean-Luc was so accustomed to carrying on conversations solely in his mind that he almost hadn't noticed Tuvok was no longer using his mouth to speak. He very nearly answered out loud until he realized how confusing that would be for Janeway.

 _Believe me, it's just as surprising to me, even now._  Picard replied.

_I apologize if this is violating your privacy in any way, Captain. I was not even certain this would work. It is exceedingly rare for a Vulcan and a human to converse this way, even among bonded pairs. Forgive me if I was too presumptuous._

Hearing Tuvok speak directly into his mindspace was so vastly different from his usual association with Q that it felt downright unfamiliar. Tuvok's voice was a gentle droplet in an ocean, treading lightly over his surface thoughts and going no further. It didn't adhere, it didn't shake his essence or weave in and around his own thoughts like Q did. It seemed so superficial in comparison. _Not at all. I've only ever telepathically spoken to Q, it never occurred to me that I could speak to other species with heightened mental abilities as a result_.

 _It is a fascinating phenomenon, indeed_.

( _Hey!_ ) A third voice barged in between the two, haughty and perhaps a tad possessive, ( _I called dibs on this brainspace, Vulcan, get your own!_ )

 _Q-!_ Two separate voices speaking in Jean-Luc's mind at the same time was extremely unnerving.  _I'm perfectly allowed to hold conversations in my own brain with whomever I want!_

( _Jean-Luc, I'm_ shocked _! On our wedding day of all days, you rush right into the mind of another man!_ )

_I assure you, that is not the case - I am a contentedly married man. I meant no disrespect-_

_Good lord, Q, look what you've done. Commander Tuvok, I apologize for my husband's utter_ _ **lunacy**_ -

"Would you two care to let me in on whatever is going on right now?" Janeway asked the men, looking between them with a bewildered - and very seriously concerned - expression, earning the instant attention of Picard and Tuvok as if a sudden wind had blown their eyes in her direction.

"Nothing," they chimed in unison, far too quickly to avoid suspicion.

Janeway had no time to question their odd behavior. In a flash of light Quenton appeared beside her, his arm already slung over her shoulders in a one-armed hug. Jean-Luc had never been so happy to see a Q pop rudely into a conversation, purely because he had no idea how to begin explaining what had just gone on in his mind.

"Aunt Kathy," Quenton half-whined, "do you believe it's accurate to say that a Q is ageless?"

Janeway frowned, considering. "I suppose so, but I'm no expert."

"So applying a numerical age to a Q would be rather unenlightened, wouldn't you say?"

Janeway exchanged puzzled looks with the men around her. "Yes?"

"Then convince that El-Aurian bartender to let me have some champagne!" Quenton cried. "She's insisting I'm a minor, which is  _obviously_ untrue! I don't follow your straight-and-narrow way of living. Applying a linear 'birthday' to me is painfully naive!"

Janeway couldn't prevent a laugh from spilling out, her free hand raising to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Alright, I see your point, but… Why should  _I_  have to talk to her?"

"Why  _not_ you?" Quenton countered.

"Surely you don't need Guinan's permission," Jean-Luc pointed out. "Why not just simply conjure up a glass?"

Quenton cast a furtive glance back toward the bar, where Guinan was watching him with unnerving, knowing eyes. The young Q turned away, his complexion somewhat paler. "I'm gonna level with you. That woman frightens me."

Jean-Luc felt a swelling of pride and amusement. With a wry smile he raised his glass to his lips. "Then you are wiser than your father."

Quenton sputtered a laugh and released Janeway, not moving to duck away when she affectionately ruffled his hair. "Speaking of human kinship terminology, I guess you're kind of my dad now, huh?" he inquired. Picard nearly spat out his champagne but somehow managed to force it down, and as a pleasant bonus, he did not choke.

"I… Well, I suppose I am whatever you want me to be to you," Jean-Luc answered carefully, wishing he could sound a tad more eloquent. "I understand that it's different for the Q, that these familial titles don't apply, but-"

Quenton blew a raspberry through his lips. "Look, I don't really care either way. If you can keep Q out of trouble and keep him from bothering me too much, I can't say I'd be opposed to occasionally calling you pops."

Janeway snorted inelegantly. "Jean-Luc "Pops" Picard?" she side-eyed Picard with a delighted grin. "That would just about make my year."

"I'm regretting this conversation already," Jean-Luc grumbled.

For a moment, Quenton looked like he had the perfect rebuttal, but the words appeared to die on his lips when he spotted Amanda walking past them with a champagne glass in her hand. He pointed at her wordlessly with a slackened jaw, his eyes alight with the injustice of it all.

"In all fairness," Jean-Luc started calmly, "Amanda was 18 years old before she awakened as a Q."

"Oh  _come on_!" Quenton cried dramatically.

.

Vash sat at the bar opposite Guinan, her chin tucked in her hand, her pale eyes watching the small spectacle across the room with an amused smile. "So. Your  _son_ , huh?"

Q followed her eye line, watching as the previously named Amanda Rogers passed by them flaunting her champagne glass - just as he'd asked her to, moments before - and observed the subsequent outrage of his offspring.

"More or less," he answered airily. Vash hummed.

"That's just... Huh. Wow. Weird times we live in," she mused, taking a drink of the rich brown liquor Guinan poured for her. "You have an actual  _son,_ -"

"More or less," Q repeated uselessly.

"-you're getting married, and what's more, you're marrying  _Jean-Luc Picard_." Her eyes narrowed at him suddenly. "I haven't slipped into an alternate universe, have I?"

Guinan shook her head before Q could answer. "Believe me, I've thought of that already. We haven't gone anywhere."

"I've seen both of you naked!" Vash continued in a hushed voice, seemingly stuck in an incredulous haze. Beside her, Beverly had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting out her drink. "And now you're marrying each other!"

"Excuse me, you most certainly have  _not_ seen me naked," Q shot back, his face scrunching in clear affront, "When and how would you have ever seen me in the buff?"

Vash laughed sharply, turning to cast her icy eyes on him accusingly. "On that planet that was mostly magma and active volcanoes? Remember?"

"Of course I remember, I remember everything," Q answered importantly. "But if I recall, I didn't take my human form  _once_ during that whole trip." His eyes flew open and he released a gentle gasp of realization. "Oh, you mean…?"

"Yes, Q."

"Well, it isn't my fault zakutau have such  _alarming_ genitalia!" Q announced defensively.

Beverly choked down her drink, softly sputtering for a moment from either laughter or horror, it was impossible to tell. "Do I want to know?" she squeaked hoarsely.

Vash took a long drink and then set her glass down hard. She put her hands in front of her as if framing the scene. "Alright, so we're on this awful fire planet, and Q turns into this massive, equally awful creature called a zakutau to generously provide me with transportation. Imagine a horse roughly the size of an elephant, dry scaly skin, all heavy tusks and giant hooves, built to navigate literal magma rock terrain. Now imagine this creature has a dick the size of-"

"I take it back, I don't need details!" Beverly cut in frantically.

Guinan's rapt expression dissolved in disappointment. "Speak for yourself!" she hissed.

"Look,  _I_  had to  _see_ it!" Vash replied hotly. She shuddered. "I still have nightmares about it."

"I'll choose not to be offended by that," Q grumbled.

Vash half-turned and slapped her hand down on Q's shoulder, flashing him a disarmingly charming grin. "Congrats, Q. I realize I've spent half of the reception in a state of horrified disbelief, but I'm happy for you two. Jean-Luc looks happier than I've ever seen him. And you…" She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him appraisingly. "You're different."

Q perked a brow at her. "That's vague."

"I meant it as a compliment!" Vash exclaimed hotly, punching Q in the shoulder.

The topic of conversation slowly veered away from alien genitalia, which Q was somewhat grateful for - not that he ever minded conversations about genitals, he just wanted to be sure Jean-Luc didn't overhear anything misleading - and moved on to tamer subjects, like the honeymoon he was planning - or parts of it, at least - and some of Vash's newest business ventures. Guinan cut in at one point to top off Beverly and Vash's drinks, and by request, she began relaying the story of how she met Q several hundred years ago, to which Q promptly decided he should excuse himself before anything massively unflattering was said.

Before he got the chance, something dramatically shifted. Q's awareness disconnected from his current reality, like a plug had been tugged out of a socket too hard. The room felt as though it had been slightly tilted, raised up on one end, and a dim orange glow fell over the bar. Q cast his gaze around the room, his senses sharp as Betazed diamond, his essence bubbling with protective tension.

In another instant, like a switch had been flipped, Q was alone in Ten Forward, all of the guests gone as if they'd never been. No, they hadn't left, Q realized that now. He was the one who was missing. He'd been pushed out and pulled somewhere else, to a place that was a nearly perfect facsimile of the real Ten Forward, complete with wedding decorations and scattered half-empty champagne glasses. A spark of fury ignited in Q's innermost consciousness. Who or what could have displaced from from  _his own wedding reception_ -

A familiar presence appeared in the lonely space, only one, and Q followed its gravity toward the large back windows. He spotted a female figure silhouetted by starlight, gazing out into space with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. She wore her human form, as she often did when Q was wearing his own, dressed in command red, a long fall of rich auburn hair cascading over her shoulders. Q allowed himself to relax, but only by a fraction.

"If you're trying to crash my wedding, I'm afraid you're a bit late," Q grumbled.

A haughty ' _hmmph_ ' breached the woman's lips. She kept her gaze locked on the window, watching the chorus of slowly blinking stars. "Oh please. As if I could even  _begin_ to care about some shallow, trivial little human ceremony."

Q didn't need to sample Q's immediate thoughts or intentions to know she was lying. "Then why have you brought me here?" A sudden spike of worry gripped him. "The Continuum...?"

"No, nothing like that," the woman drawled, annoyed. "Bringing you here was easier. With Q and Q hanging around - plus your newly awakened 'husband' - it was easier to pull you out than manipulate time and space. I thought you'd be grateful that I chose to be so discreet."

Q groaned, crossing his own arms and tapping his foot impatiently against the floor. "Q, can we please cut to the chase so that I can get back to what is supposed to be the happiest day of my eternal life?"

The woman's head inclined slightly. "No matter how much you've changed, you can't convince me that this silly ceremony means anything to you. You know as well as I do that it changes nothing between you, adds nothing."

Q rolled his eyes so hard his head followed the motion. "Oh for the love of- I  _know_ that. Jean-Luc knows that. Everyone knows that!" he huffed impatiently. "It's a gesture. It's my way of claiming our love in  _his_ world. A million years from now, none of it will matter, but it matters right now. It matters to him."

"A million years from now," the female Q repeated stoically. She hummed, nodding her head slowly. "So it's true, then. What I've heard."

"Probably. What have you heard?"

"That your human is planning on remaining with you after his mortal life ends."

Q couldn't prevent the swelling of unbridled fondness that rose within his essence at the mention, soured only by Q's choice wording. "His name is Jean-Luc for the record, and yes, you heard correctly. He doesn't want to be Q, but he wants to spend eternity with me regardless. And I with him."

The lovely woman turned her head just enough for Q to catch the humorless quirk of her lips. "Eternity is only a concept, you know."

"Who knows better than us?" Q quipped.

His companion quirked a brow challengingly. "Do you still think he hasn't polluted you? After all this, after everything you almost risked on his behalf?"

Q met her gaze. "No. He  _has_ polluted me, I realize that. We've polluted each other. But we both know 'pollution' is just a word the Q use to flee from change." he said. The female Q's mouth went very thin. "I'm not afraid of change anymore, Q. Not if it means being allowed to stay by his side."

The female Q smiled sadly. "I thought I wasn't afraid of change either," she professed softly, turning away to continue staring out at the vast expanse. "Perhaps I'm not as adaptable as I once thought. Or maybe it's because I assumed…  _hoped_ … that when your mortal paramour's brief existence came to an end, you and I..."

A disheartened silence fell over the fabricated room. After a long moment, Q gave in to the persistent tinge of guilt plaguing his essence and joined Q by the windows, keeping a comfortable distance between them, staring out at the inky black expanse. Utilizing his recent grasp of abstract social cues from his prolonged time among humans, Q did not speak or push. He could feel that his companion had something she wanted to say, but he also knew her well enough to know that trying to squeeze words out of her was pointless.

"I've always been possessive of you," the woman said after some time, tapping a polished finger against her arm. "I believed what we had together was unique, even to the Q. Association among two Q for such a length of time… I thought there was nothing we couldn't do."

"For a while, there wasn't." Q said softly.

Q continued as if she hadn't heard him. "It's only natural that we drifted apart. No two sentient creatures can possibly tolerate each other's company for so long. I was naive to think that we were any different."

Q cast her a sharp glance, looking at her for the first time since appearing here. Her gaze was far-away and set squarely beyond the window, but her expression looked peaceful for once, the usual tightness around her human features absent. Her lips parted, drawing her bottom lip momentarily into her mouth as though she were biting back more words she wanted to say but knew she couldn't. Q tried to sample her thoughts, but she was closed up so tightly he was very nearly repelled.

"If you're trying to insinuate that Jean-Luc and I are making some sort of mistake, or we're destined to get sick of each other-"

"No," Q cut in, "I don't think you will. I think that somehow, you two will make it work." She stole a deep breath in through her nose, letting it out slowly. "And honestly, in all this, that's the thought that makes me the angriest."

In an instant, it was all back. The noise and the guests returned like a pressurized pulse against Q's fragile human ears, though Q was still standing by the large back windows where Q had left him, his reflection staring back at him. He could immediately feel Jean-Luc's consciousness surge through his own, vibrating with sudden concern. A moment later, Q felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Everything's fine," Q promised firmly, before Jean-Luc could even get the words out. He turned to face Jean-Luc - his husband, his universe - who was staring back at him with questing eyes and a stress-tightened jaw. Q offered him an impressed smile. "You felt that, did you?"

"You disappeared for only a moment, but our connection went mute. I could feel you, but I was completely blind. I couldn't sense where you'd gone or what you were doing." Picard shook his head. "Good lord, when did that become a problem? I'm beginning to think we have an unhealthy relationship."

Q chuckled. "A fair point. Perhaps we should try some couples counseling? I'm sure Commander Troi is up to the task."

"Don't even joke about that," Jean-Luc replied with a grin. "You're sure everything is alright?"

Q distractedly traced his knuckles over the curve of Jean-Luc's cheekbone. "Oh, yes. An old acquaintance of mine chose a strange time to say goodbye, is all."

"Goodbye?" Jean-Luc frowned. "Do the Q even understand a notion like that?"

"Not usually," Q shrugged, "but this was special. Or maybe she was giving me her blessing in some cryptic, roundabout way? It's so hard to tell with her."

Jean-Luc sighed, some of the tension clearing away. "That's a relief. For a moment I thought-"

"The Continuum, yes I know. I jumped to the same conclusion."

Jean-Luc smiled sadly. "I suppose it will take some time for us to truly relax."

Q's mouth curled into a devious grin and he stepped closer, his hands seeking out Jean-Luc's waist, pulling him close enough that their noses were nearly touching. "Well, dear husband, I intend to give you all the relaxation you can handle on our honeymoon," he purred, a soft rumble in his throat.

Though Q could clearly feel Jean-Luc's discomfort of such a very public display of affection, he couldn't deny the slight thrill that coursed through his own essence, the small triumph of being physical with Picard in front of his officers and friends. Jean-Luc felt Q's intentions and flushed pink just under the collar. "Something tells me our honeymoon in  _this_ reality will be a fair bit more lavish than a simple five-day trip to Bali."

"You may be right about that," Q chirped, pleased. "Permission to kiss you, Captain?" Jean-Luc's discomfort bubbled, but something within him wasn't entirely adverse to the idea. That flicker of intrigue was what Q chose to cling to. "No one's watching, you know," Q added in a playful whisper.

Jean-Luc cast his eyes around. "As long as you promise to behave," he said sternly.

"Never," Q whispered gleefully.

Jean-Luc's face lit up in a genuine smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He moved his own hands to hold Q's arms, gripping him tightly. "Well, fine. Only because this champagne has me feeling rather agreeable."

"Three cheers for lowered inhibitions," Q said softly, affectionately, eagerly touching their lips together.

Eternity was only a concept, Q knew that too well, but the cruel reality of that notion didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that neither of them would have to traverse it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2018 everyone! ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ ) ♥ ♥ ♥ 
> 
> I'm alive! I was really hoping to have this all posted before the new year, but oh well. Sorry for the extra long chapter, I tried so hard to shorten it but there was really no way! If you're wondering what the heck happened to the peace talks between the Venki and the Syak, fear not, it will be covered in the epilogue. But hey, wow, I'm done! I can't believe it! This was the last *proper* chapter of the story, all that's left is the epilogue! (Which will be out really soon I promise, it's almost totally finished, I just need to edit it. A lot.) 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the amazing support you guys have thrown at me during this whole process. I've worked so, so hard on this fic for the last eleven months and I'm not sure it would have been as much fun without all of you encouraging me and sending me your love. But it's not over yet, I'll see you all in the epilogue! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!! ♥


	18. Chapter 18

The architecture of Rutiea's capital city was stunning, like something out of a utopian fantasy novel. Everything was tall and regal, just like the Venki, gleaming spires reaching upwards for the golden sky. Despite all the cold, sharp contours and intricate designs that might, to some, resemble western European gothic, the Venki did not compromise their connection to nature in their cityscapes. They integrated nature in all aspects. Trees were interwoven into many of their buildings, branches springing from tall spiraling towers and reaching out to canopy the streets underneath, giving the illusion that the structures are been meticulously built around them. Perhaps they had.

Trees and shrubs lined every street and path, and dozens of feeders were set up to encourage the local wildlife to come and forage. Hundreds of cone-shaped fountains were scattered throughout the cityscape, all of them filled to the brim with clear water draining down into circular planters stuffed with loads of flowers and shrubs, cycling through the soil and back again.

As Picard walked down the boulevard on his way to the southern city block, he stopped by one of the fountains, peering into the basin, wondering if Venki had similar traditions involving currency and public basins filled with flowing water. Going by the fountain's barren bottom, he thought perhaps the Venki weren't quite so grossly sentimental as humans.

From behind him, the scuff of boots coming to an abrupt stop alerted him to someone else's presence. "Admiral Picard?"

The title still sounded sour, even after all this time. Jean-Luc hoped Jim Kirk wouldn't be too disappointed with him for finally surrendering his title of Captain, but to his credit he accepted it only with a few stipulations, the first and foremost being that he retained command of the  _Enterprise_.

Jean-Luc turned to see a male Venki with short wild hair dressed in white and purple robes staring at him expectantly, holding some sort of communications device in his hand.

"You are…?"

"Bek," the Venki answered. "We have met, though it was some time ago."

It only took a moment for Picard to place the face with the memory. "Oh yes, of course. You came aboard the  _Enterprise_ with the Ambassador for the treaty negotiations."

The Venki didn't have very many facial expressions to speak of, but over the years Jean-Luc had grown to understand the subtle shifts that played over their features as loud exclamations of emotion. Although Bek's mouth barely twitched, his appreciation was clear.

"I was asked to escort you to the Embassy. The ambassador was worried you might not be able to find your way. Outsiders usually complain that our streets are too confusing."

"That's very kind. Though I believe I was making good progress, when I wasn't getting distracted by your breathtaking architecture."

Bek swept an arm out in the vague direction of the southern block. "Far be it for me to disrupt your viewing experience. Allow me to at least accompany you to the Embassy. At your own pace, naturally."

"Naturally." Jean-Luc smiled politely. "Lead the way."

.  
  


The Syak Empire's Embassy was an impressive building that was more like a collection of individual blocks connected by an upper floor with narrow walkways and stairwells. The ceiling was paneled with transparent windows, letting every possible shred of sunlight through to the bottom floor, illuminating an open, spacious eating area and lounge. As Picard stepped into the Embassy, he felt like he was still outside. Grass still crunched under his feet as he and Bek stopped at the front desk to check in, and he could still clearly hear the songs of the local wildlife from the densely packed trees surrounding the lot.

They found the ambassador sitting at a small table, chatting closely with a male Syak wearing formal clothes littered with a shining array of medals. When Nazaz noticed Jean-Luc and Bek approaching, she offered them a polite nod before turning back to her companion and reaching up to touch her long fingers to the center of his chest, a gesture that he wordlessly and affectionately returned before graciously taking his leave.

Nazaz rose from her seat, reaching out to give Picard a firm human-style handshake, her eyes lit up in mirth. Though Jean-Luc hadn't seen her in years, she looked to not have aged a day. He knew the Venki had longer lifespans than humans, but he'd still expected some trace of the years to show on her face.

"Admiral, it is  _so_ wonderful to see you again. Truly."

Picard clasped his hand over hers. "And to you, Ambassador. Thank you for having me."

"You know you are welcome here anytime, for any reason." She paused, regarding his face critically, still holding firm to his hand. "You have hair on your face."

Jean-Luc laughed, rubbing a knuckle through his goatee. "Ah, yes. Something my husband is not terribly fond of either, I'm afraid."

Nazaz finally released his hand, and the two of them took seats at the table. "I do not mean to offend. It is not unpleasant, I had simply forgotten that humans may choose to increase the amount of hair on their faces. It is curious."

Bek tapped briefly on his device. "Is there anything I can ask the staff to bring you two?" he asked them curiously.

Nazaz was quick to answer. "Pancakes, please. The usual preparation will be quite fine." She moved her large eyes to Jean-Luc, awaiting his decision.

Jean-Luc realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a proper, full meal. "You know, I think I'll have the same, thank you."

Bek nodded and left them to it. Nazaz laughed airily, folding her hands in her lap. "Even after all these years, I have not tired of human food. I am afraid I still eat pancakes far too often."

"There are much worse human vices to pick up, I assure you." Jean-Luc answered with a grin. He glanced in the direction the male Syak had gone. "Even after ten years of peace, I admit I find it surprising to see the Venki and Syak living in harmony. Pleasantly surprising, I hope you understand."

Nazaz nodded. "I understand well." Her expression became warm. "I am sorry I did not introduce you earlier, you will have to forgive the Syak for their unorthodox social mannerisms. The man I was speaking to is my husband, Ja-Rer. He was a representative of the Syak Empire during the extended peace negotiations when we met, but now he holds the title of Chancellor. I believe it is accurate to say that I have you to thank for meeting him, Admiral."

"You're giving me far too much credit."

"Not at all. Were it not for the efforts of you and your crew, those negotiations might not have been possible. Tensions were paper-thin in the days leading to our rendezvous with the Syak representatives. I'm positive if we had missed that opportunity, we would not have been awarded another."

A nostalgic feeling surged within Jean-Luc. Those days were still quite the jumble in his mind, though he'd long learned to separate the fantasy from the reality. Though in a way - a very compelling way - it was  _all_ reality, but it was so much easier to sort the events that had transpired into two clear categories. It made retrospection much less cumbersome.

"I'm glad to have helped. I didn't have the chance to congratulate you on your marriage, so I hope I can extend my good wishes to you now."

Nazaz's expression softened. "It is not your fault. As I've said, my people are secretive, and the Syak, even moreso. Our joinings are very private, intimate affairs that are not widely talked about or celebrated."

"I see. I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."

Nazaz uttered a delicate laugh. "Oh no, not at all. As I've told you before, Admiral, I am not in the habit of alienating my friends." Her mouth very sincerely tugged up in what seemed to be a smile. "That being said, I suppose I am also late in offering you congratulations on your own joining. I regret that I was not able to attend the ceremony back then."

Jean-Luc shook his head in understanding. "Although human weddings tend to be big, loud social events, I'm afraid I have more in common with the Venki in that regard. It was a modest gathering, nothing tremendously ornate. Q could have gone for something like that, certainly, but I'm fortunate that he keeps my own interests in mind. Most of the time, anyway."

The Ambassador's eyes lit up. "So it is true! The Q I met on your ship, the lifeform that chooses his body on a whim, you two were joined?"

"Were there whispers to the contrary?" Jean-Luc asked, amused.

"No, of course not," Nazaz began, looking slightly mortified, "Forgive me, but when we first met aboard your ship, I suspected the two of you were involved."

"You suspected?" Jean-Luc eyed the Ambassador skeptically.

"Yes. Well, ah, mm." Nazaz's round eyes darted away, finding literally anything else to focus on. She seemed to have realized she'd said too much. "Our species, we have a heightened sense of… smell. It is… Well, it is very easy for us to determine when individuals are… close. To one another." She cleared her throat nervously. "Closer than friends."

Picard's regrettably still very sharp memory retraced the events of that day, the day the Ambassador first came aboard the  _Enterprise_ all those years ago. He recalled what he and Q had been doing only minutes before, and suddenly the implications became very clear.

"Say no more," Jean-Luc answered stiffly, barreling forward into another subject so they could both pretend the previous exchange never happened. He would need to have a conversation with Q at a later time about  _properly_ cleaning them up after engaging in private activities, not just erasing the physical evidence.

.

Along the edge of the city, a ten minute shuttle-ride from the embassy was the Amorii Falls, an ancient and beloved natural beauty that towered at least 375 meters above the ground. Clear, foamy water belched over the edge of the cliff, cascading down into a small lake surrounded by winding bridges and viewing platforms. After their indulgent breakfast, Picard and the ambassador took the next shuttle to the falls, strolling along one of the higher platforms so that Picard might have an ideal view.

After several minutes of making idle conversation about the falls, a thought came to mind, something Picard had been dreadfully and consistently curious about for years.

"May I inquire as to a rather personal matter among your people?" he asked, fighting to be heard over the crashing water, watching the mist carry through the air.

"Of course."

Picard leaned against the railing. "Some years ago, shortly after the conflict between your people and the Syak was settled, I learned that the Venki had begun to reverse the sterilization crisis both your races had been facing, but the specifics were kept very hushed. I admit, I've always been curious."

Nazaz stared at Picard for a long moment before glancing away at the falls, her hand moving to pull something from a pocket within her jacket. "It is less of a secret and more of a precaution," she began, revealing the item to be a communications device similar to Bek's. "But I trust you to be discreet." She tapped on her device for a moment before handing it to Picard. He took it from her, staring disbelievingly at the screen, his breath freezing uncomfortably in his lungs.

A picture of a purple flower stared up at him, wide petals streaked sharply with yellow, nestled into a prickly green stem.

"What is this?" Jean-Luc asked before he could stop himself, his voice catching on the knot in his throat.

" _Tillu Quotis_. It is a native flower in many areas of Rutiea, and has been grown and cultivated for as long as our kind has recorded their history. It is a non-toxic, edible plant that has been used for tea, cooking, clothing and medicinal purposes for hundreds of years." Nazaz reached out her hand to swipe the screen, revealing graphs and myriads of medical and physiological information. "Shortly after my people and the Syak began negotiations for peace and coexistence, a strange discovery was made. Although Rutiea and Syak-Yal are ten light years from one another,  _Tillu Quotis_ was thriving on both worlds. After comparing the specimens with our own physiology, it quickly became apparent that there was a connection."

It had been a tremendously long time since Jean-Luc felt such raw panic. His eyes scoured over the graphs with what little comprehension he had of the Venki's language, trying to understand how something like this could have possibly happened. "I'm afraid I still don't understand," he said, though he was talking more to himself than to Nazaz.

"Believe me, our people feel very much the same," she chuckled. "It never once occurred to us that something we used so liberally and with no other adverse effects could have been doing something like this to us for so long. We could have just as easily blamed our drinking water."

Jean-Luc handed Nazaz her device back, his mind buzzing with confusion. He could feel Q's mind weaving in through his troubled thoughts from across space and time, curious, but he swatted him back so as not to be distracted.

"Our own evolution worsened the effects," Nazaz continued. "Instead of adapting to the flower's sterilizing properties or building a resistance to it, our physiology helped it along. Our immune systems began to integrate the flower's effects instead of rejecting them. Although the Syak were suffering similarly, it was affecting them very differently on a genetic level. Our research found that our own sterilized genes could be replaced by the Syak's undamaged genes, and vice versa, which is why we were genetically compatible to produce offspring. Scientifically it hardly makes sense, but there you have it."

Jean-Luc cleared his throat, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. "I apologize for asking increasingly personal questions, but how exactly was this flower affecting your people, and the Syak? Does this have any long-term effects on your people?"

Nazaz pocketed her device. "Strangely enough, the flower is harmless on its own. Only when taken orally over a period of several years does it yield its sterilizing properties, and so far we've observed that the effects are completely reversible so long as we aren't ingesting any part of the plant. Our reproductive cycles returned within five years of the discovery. And now that we have this information,  _Tillu Quotis_ is being utilized in entirely new ways among our peoples, from fertility treatments to birth control." She leaned against the railing, watching the falls with her large, unblinking eyes. "You can understand why we prefer this all be kept quiet. Until we know more about this flower and its puzzling effects, we'd rather not give outsiders any ideas."

"Of course." Jean-Luc answered numbly. He badly needed to speak to Q.

"Once, we would have given anything to understand why our people were steadily losing the ability to procreate." Nazaz said with a soft laugh. "Now, the biggest mystery is how such a unique plant could have existed on two such vastly different worlds, a millennium before either of us achieved space travel."

Jean-Luc shook his head, following the ambassador's gaze to the water cascading against the moss-covered rocks at the base of the falls. "A compelling mystery indeed," he murmured.

"Perhaps. But the inescapable fact, Admiral, is that without those strange little flowers, our people would likely still be at war with the Syak. This city was almost leveled twelve years ago, but today it stands strong. I do not know if you have a comparable word in your tongue, but here we call something like that a  _vahanaq nadir_. Something too fortuitous and unexplainable to be of this earthly plane."

The issue wasn't that it was an unexplainable phenomenon, of course, it was at least  _somewhat_ explainable, but Picard wasn't about to try. The specifics of it were too confusing for him to currently process. "When humanity was a more spiritual race, we attributed those kinds of events to divine intervention. We call it a 'miracle'."

Nazaz tilted her head at Jean-Luc curiously. "Do you believe in such things?"

The truth was, he didn't know what to believe, but he rarely applied the word 'miracle' to the Q. And this was most certainly Q related,  _his_ Q in particular. Though perhaps it was all a matter of perspective.

.

.

.

" _Our_  flowers? On  _both_ of their homeworlds?" Q's face scrunched into a disbelieving - but slightly intrigued - frown. "How very odd."

Jean-Luc paced to and fro, from the replicator to the couch, watching Q's expression closely. They couldn't keep anything from each other anymore, naturally, but Q was often very good at delaying his dishonesty, and so assessments of his physical expressions were sometimes the fastest way to tell if he was bullshitting. In this particular case, it became clear rather quickly that Q was just as flummoxed as he was.

"You honestly have no idea how this might have happened?" Jean-Luc asked in surprise, stopping in front of his desk.

Q crossed his arms and shook his head, brow furrowed in thought. "I can't say I do," he said. "You're sure it was the same flower?"

"Of  _course_ I'm sure," Jean-Luc insisted. "I even asked the Ambassador if I could scan one of them with a tricorder, so long as I promised to destroy the data after I'd analyzed it. Genetically, its identical. And seeing as how it's an amalgamation of plants and flowers native to Earth, I'd say it's virtually impossible for this to be some kind of genetic or evolutionary coincidence." He shot Q a penetrating glare. "You really didn't do this?"

"No!" Q threw his hands up to demonstrate his innocence. "Only  _one_ of those flowers should exist, Jean-Luc, only one in the infinite vastness of this universe! Do you know how hard it was to place each and every one of those molecules just so, to ensure its uniqueness?"

"For a Q? I suspect it wasn't very hard at all."

"Maybe not, but it was a wildly romantic gesture regardless!"

Jean-Luc smiled, despite himself. "Yes, I suppose I can't deny that." He heaved a sigh and sat down on the couch, resting his forehead in his palms. A moment later, Q joined him. "If  _you_ didn't populate those worlds with our flowers, I have no idea how they could have gotten there. And what they did to the Venki and the Syak… It was so calculated. It can't have been a coincidence."

Beside him, Q took in a deep breath, but did not let it out again. "I might… have a theory," he spoke softly, gravely. "But you might not like it very much."

Jean-Luc looked up. "I'll decide whether I like it or not, Q. Tell me."

Q grimaced. "Well, you're not too used to thinking in non-linear ways just yet, darling. Have you considered that the culprit might be… you?"

"Me? What the devil are you talking about?"

"Not the you from  _right now_ , obviously. I'm referring to the you in the future. Or the past, technically. Your future, their past. When you're existing outside of linear time, it's all the same, really."

There was a permeating silence over the room as Picard stared at Q, disbelieving, letting the cold reality of Q's words slowly seep in. He rubbed his chin, and then his temple, and then finally closed his face into his hands. "Oh god. I hadn't considered."

"It's a little bit fun to think about though, isn't it?"

"Fun?" Jean-Luc scoffed, "Q, I hope you're not serious. If you're right, if someday I travel back in time just to irreparably alter the history of these two civilizations, that means everything I've ever believed in, everything I've ever worked for will someday be disregarded. Thrown away. I'll be an entirely different person."

Q's eyes rolled upward in thought. "Someone very irritatingly wise and noble once told me that humans change constantly. He told me that no man is the same man he was ten years ago, or even ten days ago." He nudged Jean-Luc gently with his elbow. "That was you, by the way. You said that."

"I remember," Jean-Luc answered with a wry chuckle. "I suppose it's just… knowing the specifics of those changes, the absolute proof, is alarming." He exhaled slowly. "I never wanted to believe that even immortality could alter my convictions. I won't claim to have a spotless record where the Prime Directive is involved, but I have  _tried_ to uphold the Federation's beliefs as best I could. I believe in non-interference with every ounce of my being. To think that I could just cast all that aside, and drastically change the course of history on a whim?"

"To save their species from a terrible war that had the potential to destroy them both." Q pointed out.

"I don't know that for sure. I…  _won't_  know that for sure. They might have resolved the conflict on their own, without any outside help, and they might have been stronger for it."

"Or they might not have."

"But how can we know if I never even gave them the chance?" Picard demanded crossly.

Q sighed laboriously. "Take off your shirt."

Jean-Luc stared at Q blankly. "I- What?"

"Shirt. Off. And go lay down on the bed, would you? Or shall I save us the trouble of walking all that way and just…?" Q imitated snapping his fingers, brows raised questioningly.

Although he couldn't say with certainty that he was in the mood for whatever Q was suddenly planning, Picard knew better than to question or argue. He made his way to the bed, shucking off his uniform along the way. Q followed behind, gently gesturing for Jean-Luc to lay on his stomach. As Jean-Luc grudgingly complied, he watched Q summon a bottle of fragrant oil from thin air, pouring some of the clear liquid into his palm.

"Lavender?" Jean-Luc asked as Q straddled him, the familiar, warm scent overwhelming his senses. "Trying to pacify me?"

Q rubbed his hands together, slicking them thoroughly with the oil. "You know as well as I that if I wanted to pacify you, I have  _much_ more compelling ways than offering you a simple backrub," Q pointed out. "I'm just trying to help you relax. So relax."

Jean-Luc let out a long sigh, leaving himself as boneless as possible for Q's ministrations. "Fine."

"Good." Q began slowly rubbing Picard's shoulders. "Let us attack this from a different angle. Since you - the you from right now - currently has knowledge that the conflict between these two races was solved because of their mutual fertility crisis, then the you from the future will have to ensure that fertility crisis happens, because if it doesn't, history would be disastrously altered. And something tells me you won't be thrilled about that prospect."

"History could be altered?" Jean-Luc's voice was muffled in his sheets. "History... that hasn't actually happened yet?"

"Precisely. A causal loop."

Jean-Luc groaned, partly in irritation, partly because the tension in his shoulders felt like it was being drawn out through Q's expert fingertips. "I'd almost forgotten how irritating temporal paradoxes can be."

Q's hands glided down Jean-Luc's back, kneading gently at the cluster of muscles under his shoulder blades. A stray thread of worry came unwound in his consciousness and Jean-Luc could feel it, could hear the question before it was even uttered by his human mouth. "Are you… having second thoughts about…?"

"Of  _course_ not," Jean-Luc put in quickly, moving to sit up. Q pointedly pushed him back down. "You know better than to ask something like that. I made up my mind about my future with you a long time ago, and it's going to take a lot more than foreknowledge of my subsequent dubious moral center to put me off."

"Meddling with history to save two species from a long, messy war isn't proof of a dubious moral center. If anything, it's proof that your moral center will remain intact even after you give up the only  _real_ reason to continue clinging to those silly ideals."

"Consequence?"

"Mortal perspective."

Jean-Luc pushed himself up just enough to crane his neck back. "The mortal perspective is based in understanding consequence, Q. That's the nature of mortality."

Q smiled, one of his rare, genuine smiles, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and hollowed his cheeks. Over the years, Q's hair had gradually begun to streak with grey and there were more lines around his eyes and mouth, though the changes were so subtle and so natural sometimes Jean-Luc suspected Q had been simulating aging his human body for as long as they'd known each other. Whether it was conscious or unconscious he wasn't sure, but it didn't matter either way.

"You know," Q began softly, stubbornly shoving Jean-Luc back down flat, "after a few hundred years of nonlinear existence, you might find that 'right' and 'wrong' become blurred. I know that's probably not what you want to hear right now, but it's true. Your convictions aren't necessarily going to change, they might simply evolve."

"Sounds like a convenient way to look at it."

Q shrugged. "Perhaps. The truth is, I know there is only one of us that could be responsible for planting those flowers on a pair of distant worlds with the noble intent to save them from future misfortune, and it certainly isn't me. It  _screams_ boy scout."

"You cared enough about the gelfa," Jean-Luc pointed out.

Q groaned. "Let's not bring up that fiasco, shall we? Besides, if I were going to pull something like that again, I certainly wouldn't incriminate myself by using  _our_ flower to do it!"

In that moment, something clicked. Jean-Luc's head rose again, his jaw tightening habitually. "So why would I?" he asked softly. Q leaned down, brow furrowing in interest.

"Why would you what?"

"Incriminate myself." Jean-Luc answered, rapidly considered the implications. "If this is an action I take in the future -  _my_ future - I could have easily prevented my past self from finding out about it. Instead, I used our flower, something so unmistakably linked to us and our relationship that there would be no doubt. Why would I do that?"

With a frustrated groan, Q rolled off Jean-Luc and lay beside him, resting his head in the crook of his arm. "As you know, I avoid visiting our future before it's happened - per your request, I might point out - so I don't presume to know what's going on in your future mind, either." His eyes softened. "But if I had to hazard a guess..."

"It's a message from me, to me." Jean-Luc said, shifting onto his side to face his well-meaning husband. "Change isn't easy for me. This whole time, I've convinced myself that immortality couldn't possibly alter my perspective or my convictions. I knew changes were inevitable, of course, but I was resolute in that somehow Jean-Luc Picard the human Starfleet officer would prevail, even hundreds of years from now." He smiled sadly. "At least, I'd hoped."

"That hope is gone now, is it?" Q asked quietly.

"Perhaps in a way. Truth is, I was thinking about it all wrong. I'll change, that's a certainty, but I need to accept that I might not be in control of the changes I'll be undergoing. I'll still be me, only with less rules and regulations to abide by."

Q grinned, slipping his free arm around Jean-Luc's waist. "Admit it, that idea  _terrifies_ you."

Jean-Luc conceded with a sigh. "It always has. Fearing the unknown is part of being human. Over the centuries we've managed to cultivate that fear into curiosity and a desire to learn, but that fear will always exist." He moved closer, combing his fingers through Q's hair and then curling them behind his neck. "I suppose it's as easy as accepting that fact."

"So much trouble, just to stay with little old me," Q purred softly, eyes half-lidded. "Am I really worth all this? This identity crisis, this crushing uncertainty?"

"Oh yes," Jean-Luc professed softly, smiling. "This, and much more."

"You old romantic, you," Q murmured delightedly, pushing his head forward to claim Jean-Luc's lips in a kiss.

Even after all these years, Q's lips still felt like the universe. Infinite, consuming, dangerous and thrilling, all the attractive qualities that pulled Jean-Luc to the stars in the first place. Each time they touched Jean-Luc caught glimpses of that endless expanse, filling his mind with billions of twinkling lights. In each glowing string lay every memory Q held of their time together, past present and future, some of them locked away until Jean-Luc could catch up, some of them feeling as real and as tangible as though they were happening now. For Q, it was all happening at once. Someday, Jean-Luc would live that same existence alongside him.

Jean-Luc's mind had long become so intimately entangled with Q's that even renouncing his inherited powers years ago hadn't reversed what had ultimately happened in the deepest part of his person. That fact hadn't bothered him in nearly a decade. It was all meant to happen this way, he and Q were meant to find each other. He'd known that since he met Q at Farpoint. No, he'd known since he was a young boy on that hot Spring day in La Barre, when he'd spotted that beautiful hawk with the broken wing floundering in the dirt.

Picard didn't believe in fate or miracles. He did, however, believe in chaos, and the universe was beautifully chaotic.

They broke apart slowly. Q traced Jean-Luc's face with his eyes hungrily, his full lips quirking in a mocking grin. "Have I mentioned how much I  _hate_ this beard?" he lamented, ghosting his lips over Jean-Luc's mouth.

"Only a few hundred times," Jean-Luc answered, amused, pulling Q in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, this isn't the last chapter! This chapter was meant to be part of the epilogue, but when all was said and done, it just didn't mesh with the rest of the epilogue as well as I'd liked. You'll... kind of see why, when I post it. Regardless, here's a new chapter, now I just need to polish up the ACTUAL epilogue and this thing will finally be done! A year later! Holy cow, I've been writing this thing for a YEAR. It's hard for me to wrap my head around that fact.
> 
> Please leave a comment, let me know you're still here! The epilogue will be posted soon, (I know I keep saying that, but I THINK I mean it this time) so watch out for it!


	19. Epilogue

Mortals have always had such silly ideas about the afterlife.

To be brutally honest, there is no such thing. The afterlife is a make-believe social construct built exclusively around the fear of death, the refusal to accept that life can be so cruel and so fleeting. All mortals want to live forever, even if they won't admit it.

Well, all mortals aside from Jean-Luc Picard. Which is just my luck.

If you're twisting my arm, though, I'll concede that there is no absolute answer in regards to an afterlife. Though I tend to brush off the whole idea as frivolous nonsense, no Q can deny the power of perception. Reality is a funny thing. You've learned that by now, haven't you? If someone believes something hard enough, long enough, desperately enough, perhaps that idea can take form. There are whispers in the back of my consciousness - so deeply buried that not even Jean-Luc can reach them, nor can I fully unravel them - that give me the impression the Q may have achieved omnipotence in a similar way. As though once, longer ago than any of us can imagine, we wished for something so fiercely that we became something else. We may never know, but since the Q tend to think they know everything, I suppose there's no sense in dwelling on the unknowable.

If someone believes in an afterlife, they must also entertain the concept of a soul. After all, if you're off to some magical, sparkling realm in the sky, you'll need a silly magical vessel to take you there, right? Mortals are so asinine, so pitifully predictable. And…  _correct_ , regrettably. Only in some things. Souls, for example. The essence of life doesn't escape the body all at once like some kind of ghostly balloon of sentience, but that's not too far off. All physical beings are borne of the stars. The lifeblood of the universe, the building blocks of creation. It's often considered a romantic idea, but it's really not. It simply  _is_. And when a life ends, when that cosmic blood is released from its physical prison, it leaves in shards, countless pieces that make up a person's experiences, thoughts and feelings, the imprint of the life they led.

It happens quickly. Instantly. Impossible to track or capture without highly advanced technology or the power to manipulate space-time.

Jean-Luc's life ended at the ripe old age of one-hundred and twelve. I aged along with him. It was interesting, dipping my toe into the world of the old and enfeebled. Jean-Luc accused me of only tolerating it because I was still Q and therefore unable to truly experience the creaks and pains that accompanied the aging process, and I didn't dispute him because he was absolutely correct. I think he was relieved, actually. It was proof that I can still be selfish.

He could have lived longer, perhaps, but I promised him long ago that I would not interfere with the natural conclusion of his life. I held up my end of the bargain impeccably. (Although I suppose I'm responsible for reversing his Irumodic Syndrome, but I can hardly be held accountable for previously unknown side effects of prolonged mind-merging with a Q.) How easy it would have been to fix it, too. It was a simple complication in his cardiac implant, a tiny malfunction that abruptly severed a crucial artificial artery. Ironic. I knew it wouldn't be caught in time, but I said nothing. I  _did_ nothing. That was the agreement. I held his hand, and when he caught my gaze and brushed over my thoughts, he knew. Through me he could feel his own mortal thread starting to unwind, ready to snap. He smiled, and he squeezed my hand.

A moment later he was going into convulsions. Though I knew it should have meant nothing to me, it was simply the natural end of his useless physical shell, seeing it happen was… It was.

Horrible. Wrenching. My essence cracked, and a small part of me shriveled and died along with him. I hadn't known pain like that for some time, nor would I ever again.

And in a moment it was done.

I broke my promise, if only a little. Just to make it end more quickly. See, Jean-Luc? I can still be  _plenty_ selfish.

His funeral was everything you'd expect it would be. Formal, impressive, respectful. Flags and brass and meaningful words. The sentiment wasn't  _completely_ lost on me. Jean-Luc's funeral wasn't an end for me, as it was for Earth and the Federation. It was a new beginning, it was something to celebrate, but I couldn't just dismiss the life he was leaving behind, either. I'm not sure whether it was simply newfound mortal empathy or years of Jean-Luc's influence - perhaps both - but I understand the impact his life has made in this little corner of the universe, and it fills me with pride the likes of which I've never known. The world would weep for him, they would mourn the aching void his loss would leave in the quadrant, as they should. His presence is irreplaceable, but I will have him beside me for an eternity.

There were not many familiar faces among the solemn crowd aside from Picard's faithful crew, or at least, the few that hadn't already passed on themselves. Many of them took the stage to talk at length about Jean-Luc's many accomplishments; Riker, Beverly, Worf, even Guinan were among the impassioned speakers, and Data stepped up to the flag-clad podium toward the end of the service to give a powerful speech in Jean-Luc's honor. Data hadn't used his emotion chip since Geordi passed two years earlier, but even without the aid of his chip, the crowd was deeply moved.

I thought to say a few words myself, as his husband, but I refrained. I didn't show myself. When Jean-Luc died, so died my last reason to stay, to continue playing human. Amanda is the Q's ambassador to humanity and our judgment has long since passed. There were more pressing matters to attend to. I only wanted to make sure Jean-Luc was being honored the way he so rightly deserved.

Jean-Luc was borne in billions of bright lights, all of them rocketing through the galaxy recklessly, beautifully, doing their damndest to make me  _really_ work for it. I caught them all, each and every one, wrangling them together before they could spread out too far and completely lose cohesion and identity. He didn't fight me. I didn't expect he would. When he came together again, when he opened his eyes to the vastness of the universe and our future together, his first feeling was  _wonder_. A soft, warm remembrance. Our minds joined again, slotting together as though they'd never been apart, and the part of me that died was reborn within him.

 _Good morning_ , he said to me, grinning. Alive.

Thousands of years have passed since that day. Much has changed in that time.

The Continuum is notably altered, for the better in my/our opinion. The spectrum of 'Q' has grown, evolved, and now it isn't unusual to find beings among our ranks that don't strictly qualify as 'pure Q'. Jean-Luc is one of those beings, but he is truly one of a kind. There is no one in the universe like him, there never has been, and although I used to worry it was too lonely of an experience for him to tolerate, he assures me this isn't the case. I believe him. How can I not, when the two of us are so intimately entwined our minds are practically one? It takes almost constant vigilance on my part to ensure we don't merge in a way that might be irreversible. I know his innermost thoughts, and he knows mine. I've seen the flashes of nostalgia for his human life, the short bursts of regret that dim and die almost as soon as they appear. I can't blame him for that, and furthermore, I understand. His enduring humanity is what makes him unique. It's what makes him Jean-Luc Picard. Without it, he would be less.

Over the centuries, even those small flashes have fizzled. Jean-Luc is comfortable with his new existence. Time means nothing to us now. We roam time and space, experiencing everything the ever-changing universe has to offer, and I admit that I've never been so content to merely  _exist_ , to know that my life has meaning simply because someone else is existing beside me. Everything we do together feels new. Phenomenon I've encountered a trillion times before is suddenly immeasurably remarkable, beautiful, puzzling, and it's because he is with me.

Sometimes, rarely, Jean-Luc forgets that he used to be human. Even more rarely, he forgets his own name.

It isn't a disease, nor is it a symptom of anything nefarious or otherworldly. I knew it would happen, I was prepared. He forgets for the same reason the Q forget. There is a reason the Q do not have names. We have no need of them. We  _are_ Q. That's all that matters. I've always believed that, but Jean-Luc is  _more_ than Q. His name has meaning, it helps define him.

So I remind him when he forgets, and sometimes we'll take a trip somewhere familiar, slipping into our human forms like pulling on an old sweater that doesn't quite fit anymore but is more comfortable for it. A Dixon Hill universe. La Barre. Yern. The  _Enterprise_ , on occasion. It's always foreign at first, but Jean-Luc will flex his fingers and slide a hand over his head and instinctively tap his combadge and he'll remember. We revisit old missions and events, we play detective, we spend quiet nights at home by the fire, and little by little the pieces come back together.

Sometimes we stay there for weeks, months, years, reacquainting ourselves with the way things used to be, the way things used to feel. Eating food, suffering injuries. Sleeping, healing, mending. Touching skin against skin. Kissing and biting and stroking and thrusting. Mortal pleasures. We remind each other of all the different ways we can make each other feel good, revisit all of the most sensitive places, the touches and caresses that drag each of us to the shuddering edge. We reminisce about the distant past, and for a moment, that's where we are.

In a way, that's where we will always be.

Billions of years from now when the universe finally reaches its slow, fiery demise, when all of the timelines converge and the universe catches up with all of the messy discrepancies, when even the Q must face The End, Jean-Luc and I will stand together. And against all reason or logic, he will love me. The idea is still so delightfully implausible, even after all this time! As the last light in the universe is snuffed out, he will love me as infinitely as I love him.

And then, when the cosmic clock winds back, we'll do it all over again. And on it goes.

 

 

**the end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it! Whoooo! 
> 
> The idea that spurred this entire story into motion was ‘Would it be possible to write a fic where Q and Picard end up married, but in a convincing way that keeps them both in-character?’ I really sincerely hope I achieved that, cause if not… wellfuckmesideways! (ﾉ´･ω･)ﾉ ﾐ ┸━┸
> 
> I’m experiencing the weirdest mixture of relief and melancholy now that it’s over. I’ve been writing and planning this story for over a year, I began making notes and drafting the first chapter early February 2017, and honestly I didn’t really expect it was going to get so lengthy or that I would meet so many awesome people as a result of writing it. Thank you _so much_ to everyone who reached out and commented/reviewed and rightfully harassed me on Tumblr every time I killed Picard or otherwise subjected everyone to a painful cliffhanger lol 
> 
> I have several more Star Trek fics planned, but I might take a break before I jump into some of them. I do have a few more qcard fics I really want to write, (one in particular is on the darker/non-con side) but I’ve been dying to write some Data/Geordi fics because those boys don’t get enough love. Right now I’m in Mass Effect: Andromeda hell though, so it might be a little while before I get to any of that. (I guess I have a thing for human/alien relationships??? Who would have guessed??) 
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading!! Look out for my future ST stories, and if you enjoyed my Eternity series, please leave me a comment or kudos! I love you all!!


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